Cry Of The Prophets
by Ocean Mint Leaves
Summary: When Albion cries out under the strain of war and famine, Arthur Pendragon rises from the depths of Avalon. Fifteen long years after his demise the Once and Future King returns to his people. Post 5x13. No Slash.
1. Prologue

Guess who exempted everything except math? That's right; Ocean was almost totally free from finals! :D

Right now I am a very happy bunny. I got accepted into my dream college with a scholarship and now all that's left is my excitement ( and slight worry, I admit) about leaving my home and living on a dorm for four years. But still, life's good.

I don't even know why or when this struck me but it was one _ferocious_ plot bunny. I think it was mainly my inability of letting the rightful Golden Age of Albion pass me by and Merlin waiting God knows how much time for Arthur to come back. And even if the very last scene of 5x13 looks a bit contradictory to this fic it is not. But that's all I'm saying for now.

The updates for this will be a bit sporadic, be warned. Mostly because of graduation, a new semester and stuff. I hope I can heal a little bit of the fandom's heart after the finale with this. :D

* * *

Out of the mist of history  
He'll come again  
sailing on ships across the sea  
to a wounded Nation  
Signs of a savior  
like fire on the water  
it's what we prayed for  
one of our own.

- Idina Menzel.

* * *

**Prologue.  
**

** .  
**

There were times- when the weariness was too strong and the memories too overwhelming -when Queen Guinevere could not stop herself from holding in her hands one worn neckerchief and the ancient sigil engraved with Ygraine's emblem. There, sitting on her chambers with the two most precious objects in her possession, she breathed in the soft scent of her beloved husband and his warlock wash over her amongst the tears that always trailed down her cheeks, both of sorrow and gratitude. She would remember as she buried her face on the soft wool. She would look back at a smile bright as the sun and two inquisitive blue eyes that she'd thought intriguing from the very first moment she'd seen Merlin walking through Camelot's dusty road. And behind her trembling eyelids she always saw Arthur right beside her best friend, smiling and teasing, looking back at her with that loving gaze of his.

Those beloved memories were her strength during her loneliest hours.

If she looked down through the sun kissed windows of her chambers she would smile at the sight of children and druids playing amongst themselves and then close her eyes so that she could enjoy the new light enveloping it all. But these times were trying and there was no childish laughter reaching her ears, no beam of sunlight to ease her grief. The worst drought in decades had befallen over the lands of Albion and as both natural healers and farmers worked together to ease the strain upon all of the people, bringing the land slowly out of its famine, disgrace struck again. This mortal disease claimed the lives of many people, children and women the most, and it left no trace on its wake and by the time skilled healers brought in under control more than half of the poorer on Camelot's lands had perished.

But Queen Guinevere held her head high and ruled over all with the patience and strength that made a hero known. In the few months that followed after the sickness was eradicated a mighty army from the north had invaded the outskirts of the kingdom and the Queen could do nothing more than send her best knights in defense of those who could not stand their ground. She watched with a troubled heart as they departed, many to never return.

Yet nobody knew that, for all of her strength and resilience, their magnificent widow Queen wept bitterly on her chambers with a torn neckerchief pressed to her eyes, finding solace in the scent of her long lost friend and her much loved husband.

Too many great years had gone by since Arthur had fallen in the fields of Camlann and the warlock Merlin, heartbroken, had disappeared from the face of the earth. She had taken upon her shoulders the responsibility of a flourishing kingdom; she had shaken hands with dignitaries from Mercia and Gawant, had embraced Mithian as a sister as they both cried. In the light of Gaius' revelations about Merlin's courage and bravery she'd repelled the ban on magic and recognized the sacred practices were not what Uther thought them to be and she proclaimed Merlin the greatest benefactor of the kingdom of Albion. She'd sat many hours with her hollow-eyed best friend, sometimes just taking his pale hands between her own and offering her shoulder for him to cry on.

Arthur had left behind a land almost indebted to him in its entirety and it wasn't long before those who remembered the golden haired King united under a single banner. When she saw the loyalty her beloved Arthur had inspired Guinevere had cried tears of joy from the same balcony Uther had once stood to announce the genocide that she had ended.

She never told anyone, not even the ever- present Leon, that she had hoped- _expected_ even- for Merlin to come back once magic ran free again over the face of the United Kingdoms. She'd sat with her gaze on Camelot's courtyard one too many times, just waiting with a mangled heart for her friend to come home.

Merlin never returned.

She never grew tired of waiting. Once or twice she'd sent knights to the corners of the United Kingdoms with orders of searching for the savior of Camelot but they never found anything and if Guinevere hadn't known better she would've thought Merlin dead. Yet the dead had tombs …and Merlin of Ealdor did not.

The first time she heard of Emrys she thought it a cruel joke. The merchant had described a cloaked man acting as a physician and a warrior, a man who could heal and command the skies. '_The sun and the moon bend at his will_.' He'd said.

She had long since wondered if Merlin was still alive but when the man mentioned 'the most ridiculous ears you can imagine, My Lady.' she felt hope like no other spring on her chest. She'd immediately poured herself on the ancient books she found about the long lost druid prophecies and learned with a quivering heart about_ Emrys_…and for the first time Guinevere lay her eyes upon the words '_Once and Future King_.'. It was then, in the barely lit library, that she'd wept the most because she understood now what she'd seen between her husband and his warlock, a bond she could not give a name.

The patrols searching for Merlin stopped soon after. She now knew that her friend was less than whole and that he would not- could not- see her again.

It had been the very first hours of the day when Leon had run in with moist eyes and trembling lips that could barely form words. After Guinevere had laid her hand upon his shoulder, knowing that whatever he would say would be a blow to her, he'd finally spoken.

"_Gwen._" She'd never heard him as desperate. "Guinevere Odin is attacking us now. Most of the people in the lower towns are defenseless and we-"

He was interrupted by the unmistakable hiss of boulders above their heads and it wasn't long before Guinevere found herself commanding her knights to fight another war when they'd barely made it out unscathed a few weeks ago. However, the very moment Sir Leon mentioned Arthur those weary warriors cheered and their hearts swelled, prepared to defend the kingdom for their beloved late king.

She'd remained behind with one hand upon her lips and one pressed on her temple, devising the best way in which she could give shelter and supplies to those who were in imminent danger, seeing through pained eyes how her knights carried those who were already hurt to the healers. She saw Alice run down the stairs to receive a new stream of burnt villagers and guide them towards the physician's chambers. The Queen closed her eyes, turning away.

It was then when the candle beside her was extinguished by a gust of wind.

She looked up, expecting perhaps to see Gaius or Geoffrey scolding her for staying up till dawn (the soft golden hues of the newborn sun already graced the throne room.) but the voice that spoke her name- so vivid yet when it _could not_ be real- nearly made her faint.

"Guinevere."

Her eyes almost didn't dare to look up and yet they did, perhaps only so that she could see for herself how impossible it was-

She could hear muffled exclamations on the other side of the door and her heart quickened.

The newcomer looked at her and Guinevere felt her body shudder in wonder when her gaze fell upon the face of the man she had loved above all.

The Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon, stood in the center of the throne room, soaking wet and bone pale, boring with his blue eyes the face of his beloved wife.

"It can't be." She said, pressing one hand upon her lips to subside the sobs. "_It can't be._ What are you?"

He extended one gloved hand towards her and she instinctively reached for it.

The moment the leather from his gloves made contact with her skin Guinevere felt tears on her cheeks.

"Guinevere." The impossible being repeated and it was spoken with such softness and pity that she could not contain the great sobs that erupted from her lips. Those fingers- warm, pulsating fingers- intertwined with her own and not one heartbeat passed before Arthur had closed the distance between them and she'd locked her arms around him at the same time he said, "I'm real. I'm here. I'm alive."

She would've thought him a work of sorcery had she not read the prophecies and found shelter and dim hope in them. As Arthur embraced her Guinevere held him tight and gave thanks to the heavens for what she was seeing.

Fifteen years after his demise the Once and Future King had returned to his people.

* * *

Kilgarrah never specified _when_, did he?

This looks like a long-shot but I'll go with it. :D I can't say when the next chapter will be up but we'll address a bunch of things in it and contain a few surprises.

Once again, rather than focusing in accuracy this is a girl's attempt to heal the post 5x13 feels.

Massive hugs!

Ocean.


	2. The Given Name

It seems that I love to prove myself right. :D

This chapter was one big headache up until about three hours ago. Every time I sat down to type it something came up and I had to go running after my dog, my brother and sister, literally drive my car in slippers to the store because there was no more milk on Sunday morning (opening the fridge and seeing no milk is actually terrifying.) or being pulled away by duty. (I'm VP of my school's music club.) I had pretty much given up on my life returning to its normal pace when finally everything sort of stopped and I finally dragged myself to the laptop.

Guess what? It would've probably taken even more time to get this out if it wasn't for one PERFECT song that was heaven sent. I said somewhere that music inspired me. No joke. The song was everything, guys, the song was _everything. _All hail the song because it gave you – and me- a new chapter.

I'd go on and on ranting about the song ( it inspired me so much that I actually replaced a much longer Beowulf quote with it.) but I'll let you guys go and listen to it ( hopefully now you are all curious about it.) and figure it out by yourselves. ^^

* * *

Pray God you can cope  
I'll stand outside  
This woman's work  
This woman's world  
Oh it's hard on the man  
Now his part is over  
Now starts the craft of the Father

I know you've got a little life in you yet  
I know you've got a lot of strength left

(…)

I should be crying but I just can't let it show  
I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking  
All the things we should've said that I never said  
All the things we should've done but we never did  
All the things we should've given but I didn't.

- 'This Woman's Work.' Greg Laswell.

* * *

**Chapter I.**

**The Given Name.**

.

_'Stay with me.'_

Never, not once in the course of almost a decade, had Arthur heard Merlin's voice as desperate as it was in those moments in which he'd _pleaded _Arthur to stay awake. To stay with him.

Even though it was unspoken Arthur heard it with the same clarity he saw Merlin's tortured eyes. _'Don't go somewhere I can't follow, old friend.'_

And later he would understand that, as his soul prepared to leave the earthly plain and the bond that existed between him and the warlock of legend desperately tried to knit itself back together while it was torn apart, he'd been given the gift of hearing his friend's soul cry.

He could not forget the sorrow in Merlin's eyes, the tear-inducing sight that became what he last saw on earth. He hadn't meant to close his own; he had meant to keep them open and try to give strength to the man that had been loyal to no fault until he could breathe no more. Merlin cried out for him and his soul answered with a wheezing effort, holding death at bay for one more moment because Merlin- _Merlin_- needed him.

Another agonizing second went by- then the King of Camelot felt his breath leave him for one last time and the world blurred and titled. Yet, Merlin did not. Even when he couldn't see the world around him anymore those blue eyes above him were as present as they always had been.

The miserable face of his manservant became the last thing Arthur ever saw.

After a second of breathless silence his heart stilled, Merlin's own broke and the bond that was akin to a strained nerve pulling on his soul…_shook. _The cry of sheer torment that shattered Merlin's throat would've been an echo of his own if he'd been able to speak.

_'Arthur!'_

Merlin would never know that it had hurt Arthur as much as it had hurt him.

It was _agony._

Avalon opened her gates to him and Arthur, with a reluctant heart, entered. There, in the peace that was reserved for those blessed with hearts of true gold and without malice, he had seen Merlin for who he was, seen the loyalty and bravery he'd only caught glimpses of throughout the years and known that everything Merlin had done it for him and for_ him_ only. The mask fell and Arthur's eyes opened to the truth. He _wept._

Arthur Pendragon vowed to never again take his eyes off Merlin.

And he didn't. While Lancelot, Gwaine and Elyan talked to him and confided with him, as his mother embraced him and told him how much she loved him, while Balinor revealed that Merlin had been his son and Freya showed him the story of her life and death, he never once stopped his silent vigil over Merlin.

There were times in which he swore Merlin could feel him. And he was not surprised, not when he knew how tightly their souls were entwined. But as time went by and Camelot became the center of the United Kingdoms it all started, slowly but surely, slipping away. Time obscured, dimmed and blurred.

Eternity began.

In the living world The Emrys abandoned Camelot. In Avalon, The Once and Future King waited.

The lake stilled. It became a forgotten spot in the evergreen forest. For the next few years there was nothing but the soft whispers of the Sidhe to disturb its peace. It had been a sacred place when the Old Tongue had been alive and many great sorcerers and warlocks had revered the unprofaned space but now, even though the Old Religion was free again, none came. Perhaps they knew _who _slept beneath the divine waters and knew the consequences of disturbing such heavenly bliss.

Then, there was light upon Avalon.

As the night slowly became day, fifteen years after Camlann, Excalibur broke the stillness of Avalon's waters and thrust itself in muddy ground to serve as lever for a soaked Once and Future King.

* * *

The land Arthur walked on was the land he had dreamed of since he was a child.

Many times he felt tears prickle his eyes before he stubbornly pushed them away as his heavy footsteps guided him throughout his kingdom. The awe that fluttered inside his chest as he laid his eyes upon the magnificent towers and well-kept houses knew no boundaries. There was peace in every lungful of air he breathed and Arthur knew that- even if the darkness of the early morning barely let him see- his people were _happy._

These were places that he'd walked by as a boy – _how long had it been?-_ clutching his father's hand and listening with wonder-filled eyes about legends of long-lost kings and kingdoms, of how much blood had been spilled for his precious land. Uther had made sure he knew that-_'This all will be yours, Arthur. One day.'_

The Camelot he wanted, the _world_ he wanted, was one were peace reigned and his people prospered. He'd tried so hard to fulfill his ideals as a young prince of barely ten that he'd ran away from home with the sole purpose of defending his lands from bandits and mercenaries by his sword. And back then he'd thought foolishly that his title as Camelot's defender and ruler made him invincible and invulnerable so that no blade could ever kill him.

He grasped his side were the wound that Mordred's sword had dealt had once been.

As a young king with Agravaine- the_ traitor_- at his side, he'd pointed out vehemently the need to make the town safer and use some of the gold from the vaults to make safer and wider roads, to replace the dust with smooth stone and build at least two more wells so that his people could draw water more easily instead of walking miles into the forest and search for an almost-dry stream. Agravaine had laughed and his heart and cheeks had burned when he'd said, _'Surely you are joking, sire? The funds should not be spent as carelessly. Your father would've rather get more weapons for the knights than wasting it as you suggest.'_

With a smile that hadn't graced his face for decades he knelt down and brushed his cold, wet fingers across the smooth stone that lead him home. Even without knowing it his Queen, his Guinevere, had made the land Arthur wished for a reality.

Arthur thought he'd never loved her more.

He walked and water dripped and left a trail as he continued on. In the morning bewildered villagers would find the wet boot-prints and wonder who could possibly be as stupid as to swim in the river with the dropping temperatures.

A shadow stretched suddenly across his eyes and Arthur looked towards the little brick house (there were barely any wooden cottages left.) that was suddenly alive with laughter, the window open enough so that he could hear the delighted peals of children. In his heart Arthur thought that he should not interrupt the happiness this family was feeling but an ache on his soul and sheer curiosity took the best of him. And so, with trembling hands, he placed his fingertips on the cold window and looked at the scene unfolding within the house.

He felt his eyes grow tender when he saw the two children, sitting and staring attentively at their father as the man gestured with his hands and smiled, saw the mother sewing quietly by a cozy fireplace and the affectionate, gentle gaze she rested upon her children. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd never had any of it but Arthur could not look away.

He took a step back reflexively when the man's eyes flashed gold and a butterfly timidly peeked from the cocoon of his big hands. With trembling lips he saw the fluorescent animal lightly kiss the little girl's hair before dissolving into a gust of wind.

For the first time since Camlann the Once and Future King laughed. An ecstatic, joyful laugh escaped his lips and in his giddiness he barely had enough presence of mind to continue walking before the father looked outside the window and found himself staring at a ghost from a distant pass.

Guinevere had lifted the ban on magic and that meant- Arthur knew- that Merlin was free.

Perhaps_,_ he thought, Merlin had been _happy._

In the same moment he saw Camelot's tall towers and his newly beating heart jolted on his chest the King of Camelot noticed, for the first time, the smoke that curled and twisted in the clouded sky.

He thought he'd forgotten how to breathe.

He ran. The guards did not notice him. With a pounding heart Arthur made his way through the castle he knew better than the palm of his hand and did not think twice before opening the wooden doors of the throne room.

There was Guinevere, standing as she gazed out the window, a stray candle by on the table, looking to the entire world as a youthful, strong Queen. But Arthur knew her better. He knew that the lines creasing her forehead were of worry and that she pursed her lips whenever she tried not to cry. In those moments, Arthur could see, her lips were barely visible.

He noticed the subtle way Guinevere closed her eyes and sighed and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her.

A gust of wind made the flame atop of the candle flicker and die.

Guinevere looked up and he could not restrain himself from saying her name, from walking forwards smiling, _beaming_ at his beloved wife.

'Guinevere.'

And then, finally_, finally_, he was home.

* * *

"My Lady."

Gaius did not raise his eyes from his work when he heard the door open and close and it was Guinevere's gentle hand on his shoulder what prompted him to look upwards at the most wondrous sight his old eyes ever saw.

The sun filled the sky with its golden hues and it bathed Arthur with its radiance, making him look more god-like if possible. The physician's old heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw the late King standing with his Queen, turning around to face him with the same knowing smile and keen eyes. Light draped over his face from above and softened his every feature and for one moment he thought he was seeing a vision sent from Avalon.

Perhaps it was his knowledge of the legends or perhaps Merlin had told him about Arthur's foretold return. Whatever the reason Gaius cried out after just a moment, leaning heavily on his cane to reach his once-lost King.

The ancient physician extended one withered hand to touch Arthur's cold cheek and choked with his tears when he felt the flesh below his fingers.

"Oh, my boy."

"Gaius." The King replied, clutching the old hand with his own before leaning over to embrace his dear physician. "My good Gaius."

Not once did the physician questioned if his re-awoken King was a hallucination of his old age. He buried his white-haired head on Arthur's shoulder and closed his eyes as tears trailed down his cheeks at the joy of it all. It took a while but when Gaius finally let go of the mystical figure he saw that, though he looked older and wiser, Arthur's eyes were lightened with the kindness that only he possessed, the compassion that seeped through his generous soul.

"My boy…" he said with wonderment." It is really you, isn't it?"

And Arthur, eyes as wide and true as when he was a prince, replied. "It is me Gaius."

Gaius smiled and his face crinkled with the effort of holding in place such a bright grin, and his eyes lightened in a way Guinevere had almost forgotten existed. The old man rubbed Arthur's knuckles with his trembling fingers and Arthur let him.

"I don't believe it…" but he did. (1)

The Queen laughed, then. Laughter so crystalline, relieved and_ joyful_ that she doubted she'd ever been truly happy before that moment.

"He's alive, Gaius." she said as she smoothed her soft hands over Arthur's cheeks and marveled at the light stubble beneath her fingers. "Oh, Gods. He's _alive _and I-"

Something foreign flashed in Arthur's eyes, a sadness and pity as deep as the lake he had rested in but then he hugged his Queen for the twentieth time since his arrival and brought Gaius' frail body closer to his. "Albion needed me. Albion needed me and here I am._"_

_"The Once and Future King." _Guinevere whispered in awe._  
_

Arthur looked at her with loving eyes and confirmed the title that had been bestowed upon him since the beginning of time with a nod of his head. There, in the little, cramped room, he looked as young and majestic as he had always been.

"I believed-" he began gently, looking at his flourishing kingdom with pride. " that it was me who would bring down the barriers of prejudice and unite these lands under a single banner but now I see that you, Guinevere, were the only one gentle enough, wise enough, to do it. And for that I thank you, my Queen."

"How do you know this, Arthur?" asked Gaius with marveled eyes.

He smiled. "In Avalon there are no secrets kept, Gaius. I know now how foolish I've been. I know everything my father did and my mother spoke to me. _Freya_ said-"

As if the name pushed down the overwhelming joy at seeing his Queen once again and brought forth something that he'd unconsciously looked for and hoped to see while Gwen guided him through the sleepy castle, Arthur uttered that name that- he knew now- was one with his soul.

"_Merlin._ _Where's Merlin_?"

His eyes immediately settled upon the small door that led to Merlin's chambers, as if he expected his servant to come bumbling out of there at any moment. But when no answer came and Guinevere tensed in his arms the Once and Future King felt horror like no other settle on his chest. It was a javelin through his heart.

Gaius' gaze fell and Guinevere's hands tightened around him as he turned to face her.

"Arthur." The gentle Queen said, so softly that Arthur almost couldn't hear her above the thunderous beating of his panicking heart. "Arthur- Merlin is…Merlin's_ gone_."

The risen King stared as though he would never blink again. For a moment he didn't breathe.

"He can't be." he said at last.

He wondered if he'd heard correctly. He wondered if the gods would be as cruel as to take Merlin away from him once again, as to force their will upon them and spit at their faces while trampling upon his and Merlin's heart as an unregenerate horse. Had he returned to the world only to live without Merlin? Was this his punishment for his blindness and arrogance, for the way he had averted his eyes whenever Merlin pleaded him to _listen_, for doing far too little, far too late?

_Stay with me._

As he remembered the words and Merlin's voice streamed through his very being a pain similar to the stab wound that had taken his life settled upon his heart. And then, as he shook his head almost frantically and Guinevere tightened her hold around him there was nothing but emptiness, a black void so full of unbearable sorrow that he thought it was not possible to feel as hollow only to realize that-

Merlin had suffered through it first, from the very moment Arthur had closed his eyes to the mortal world.

The kind voice of his old physician broke through the haze on his mind and Arthur realized suddenly that his legs were quivering and Gwen was guiding him to a nearby stool, whispering reassurances all the while. However, when Gaius spoke what he said was a beam of light cutting through the sorrow that had taken hold of him and so he lifted his gaze.

"Sire, do not misinterpret Gwen's words. Merlin's alive. He's _alive,_ Arthur. But he is-"

"_Not here_." Gwen finished, kneeling in front of him and squeezing his hands with her own. "Oh, Arthur! I never meant-"

_Alive_. He was _alive._

Burying his face in his hands and exhaling slowly Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as relief washed over him and stopped his heart from giving out. And he thought back on that moment, with a dry shake of his head, in which he'd felt Merlin and himself part and the breaking of his heart. He marveled upon the fact that there he still felt complete and that it meant Merlin was still with him, if not in presence in spirit, somewhere, waiting for him.

Waiting for his King.

He wanted to laugh and cry all at once because he'd been so very foolish at taking Gwen's words for the worst and never considering that _if _Merlin had left him he'd know it somehow, _someway,_ because that was just the way he and Merlin were, it was the way the gods had deemed it to be and the reason why before Merlin his life had been a dull shadow of restless days and sleepless nights.

Then, the absurdity of what he'd just heard replaced the heart-warming consolation that Gwen's voice brought.

"What do you mean _not here_?" he asked, just a little incredulous, because the thought of Merlin not where he was had been unconceivable before that very moment. "As in, not in Camelot?"

Gwen hesitated for one second before replying. "Arthur, he left at least two weeks after you-after _it_ happened. No one has seen him ever since."

_"How much time_?" he asked sharply and if Gwen flinching was a reaction to the strength with which his jaw clenched it only made his heart beat faster. "How much time has it been Guinevere? How long since Merlin left?"

When Guinevere looked down at the floor, unable to reply, Gaius stepped in.

"It's been at least a decade, sire." The physician said gravely. "Merlin's been gone ever since."

For a moment fury blinded him and the long-gone King felt his nails digging into his palms. _How dare he! _How dare Merlin abandon Camelot, abandon his precious Guinevere, leave everything _they'd _worked so hard for behind? What had possessed the man to leave Arthur's home- _his_ home- as though he'd forgotten that Arthur needed him as he always would and that, even if Arthur was in the depths of Avalon's lake, he still needed Merlin's presence beside him-?

Then, as a dying flame, his anger left him cold and drained when Merlin's tear-filled eyes flashed behind his eyes again and the way he'd begged for Arthur resonated inside the King's courageous heart. He remembered with great sadness that Merlin had been left alone in the world with a broken heart and a tattered soul and grief clutched his heart in the tightest of fists.

"I need him, Gaius." He recognized out loud, for once not caring about expressing what he knew to be true with something more than light touches and soft, almost unnoticeable hair ruffles. "_I need him_. Do you know…?"

His question was almost a plea but before he could finish it Gaius answered with a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "I am afraid not, my King." tears glistened in his eyes. "No one knows anything about him- not even me."

"No." he stood up and paced around the chambers that had watched him grow - and now return again to the land of the living. His steps traced a circle methodically in the middle of Gaius' work space. "You must have an idea, Gaius, anything. _Anything_, Gaius."

Now there was no place for doubt, even a blind man could see the desperate edge to Arthur's strong voice, the quiet prayer on his vulnerable eyes. Gaius, with quivering lips, answered.

"I know nothing, sire. Merlin vanished long ago, the day he walked out of these chambers."

Arthur's soul cried out as though, if it did it loud enough, he could muffle the words. But without even noticing he was shying away from Gaius, from Guinevere, and placing both fists upon the wall, pursing his lips and trying not to let his fear surface.

A decade had gone by and Merlin had been wandering_ alone_ with no Arthur there to protect him from his clumsiness and selflessness, with no Gaius there to remind him that he needed to eat every day, with no gentle Guinevere to ease the heavy burden that was upon his bony shoulders.

_Too many things_ could happen in a decade. How had Merlin survived the cold winters without one single penny on him? Where had he slept? Had he- and Arthur's heart shook with the thought- stayed at the lake of Avalon waiting for him, as he'd done for those first few weeks after Arthur's death, when the King had watched him from the other side of the veil and sighed with great sadness at not being able to reach his warlock?

The possibilities made his face even paler and his eyes darkened with the swirling thoughts.

Then there was a soft hand upon his cheek and as he turned to look at his beloved wife he saw an open drawer behind her and then his eyes traveled from her gentle eyes to the thing she held in her delicate hands.

It was a neckerchief, ancient and ragged and yet the same as it had always been.

Guinevere said nothing- she knew no words could be enough- as she held it to him. Arthur took the fragile fabric with careful fingers and he marveled over the fact that it still held the blessedly familiar scent of apples and worn parchment in it, almost as if no time had gone by and Merlin was there by his side, lightening the day with his impish smile.

For the first time since he was a little boy Arthur Pendragon did not waste a thought on what his actions would entail and the stone-cold façade that had been thrust upon him but pressed the neckerchief to his lips as a little boy who's found his greatest treasure.

Neither Guinevere not Gaius said a word and, for the longest of moments, Arthur inhaled what was left of his friend, his warlock, _his Merlin_. Then, he opened his eyes.

"I will ride at dawn, tomorrow." said the Once and Future King with a voice that admitted no reply. "I will bring him home."

* * *

(1) Small tribute to Richard Wilson's timeless, 'I don't believe it!' in '_One Foot In The Grave._' ( most hilarious thing I've ever seen. You British people have the best TV upon the face of the earth.)

I _tried_ to not rant about the song but here we go.

This is Arthur's POV one hundred percent multiplied by one thousand. Perfectly fitting, perfectly sad and melancholic. Perfection with a cherry on top.

Of course, the woman's work is _Morgana's, _after all, it was her hatred and actions what brought Arthur's death and Camlann and Merlin all alone and *sadness.*

'The craft of the Father.' Uther's laws, which will play a bigger role on later chapters.

Then Arthur assuring himself as well as the other half of his coin that, 'I know you've got a little life in you yet, I know you've got a lot of strength left.' before recognizing that even though he does not cry it doesn't mean that he doesn't know.

_I should be crying but I just can't let it show  
I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking  
All the things we should've said that I never said  
All the things we should've done but we never did  
All the things we should've given but I didn't._

_I Didn't._

Because now Arthur knows that Merlin has given everything and more for him and that it was him who fell short. Ergo, that little 'I' is genius.

And, thus, ladies and gentlemen, a song managed to make a chapter. :D


	3. Immortal Bird

Well, first of all, I never thought it would take _this_ long. Sadly I had to bury myself in books and burn my eyes out studying math for a week and then it was time for the last ever Talent Show before three or four tests hit me in the face. Yes, these were busy weeks. But they are over now. (_Thank God!)_

If you're reading this chapter and not listening to the _Braveheart_ Soundtrack then you are doing it wrong.

**Leonarema**: First of all, thank you!

Well, *strokes chin.* the way I see it, Arthur's soul remained attached to Merlin's both by the recentness of his death and Merlin's frequent visits to the lake but soon enough the pain becomes too much and- probably this is true for you as it is for me- when something hurts we don't want to remember. We try to keep it away, shun it and ban it from our thoughts to try and stop the hurting. According to this overjoyed student ( graduation!) when Merlin unconsciously began doing this Arthur was cut off. However, since this is from Arthur's point of view we won't see Merlin's side till later. ;)

(And yes, that was me spluttering a bunch of touchy-feely nonsense. I'm just trying to make the reunion an unprecedented angst-fest. :D)

* * *

_Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!_  
No hungry generations tread thee down;  
The voice I hear this passing night was heard  
In ancient days by emperor and clown:  
- John Keytes.

* * *

**Chapter II.**

**Immortal Bird.**

**.**

The fire started at midnight.

There was no warning, nothing but the all too familiar hissing of boulders set aflame, flying above and beyond the castle's walls to crash down mightily and fulfill their duty. Though the castle itself was untouched, the screams from citizens coming from the lower town told the stricken knights and he petrified Queen that peace was a dream, an unfathomable reality. It could not be.

Night became day almost too quickly and with it the looming threat of an approaching army. The thunders of war rumbled and soon a rightful fury overtook the risen King's joy. He looked on as his people were rushed inside the castle to be cared for inside the safety of the stone walls and those men that were once his knights rushed in, weary and bloodied after protecting the kingdom he loved so well.

"Guinevere," said Arthur, looking down upon it all and understanding fully the reasons for his awakening. "_Gwen_. What is-?"

"Odin spat over your treaty, Arthur." answered Guinevere with a sigh and she rose to her full height as well, looking down with mournful eyes. "Our men are weak, our kingdom is frail. I believe he thought this was too good an opportunity to let it pass by."

The King pursed his lips but before he could speak the door of the physician's chambers opened without a warning and Sir Leon walked in. The knight raised his gaze with a mournful sigh, preparing himself to inform his Queen of yet another loss when his eyes fell upon the extraordinary sight.

There was but a second of hesitation in which he took in what he was seeing. For the space of one heartbeat he could only stare blankly, at Arthur's pale face not knowing if he was hallucinating or dead…

"…_Arthur_?"

A thin smile played across the King's mature features and then, with that nod of his head that oftentimes urged the knights forward during battle, he made the illusion true.

"_Leon."_

And even if the soft intonation was the same his prince-King used in life Leon did not move from where he was rooted to the wooden floor. It was as if his legs were trapped by vines and his limbs were stone.

"This cannot be."

The man standing before him was a broad-shouldered warrior with pale eyes and a golden mop of hair, looking as radiant as the sun lightening his crooked smile, casting shadows upon his sturdy, stubbly face.

Guinevere, tall and mighty and _younger_ than he'd seen her in months confirmed his thoughts. "Leon." a joyful sob. "Leon, _he's back_."

Later, Sir Leon would not be ashamed to say that he wept as he beheld his fallen King and brother in arms, standing there as if no time had gone by and they were still young men building a new Camelot. He fell to his knees as the bare whisper left his throat.

_"My Lord!"_

Arthur was there in an instant, a golden figure against the burnished sun, smiling and clapping him on his too-old forearms. "My friend. Don't kneel now, Leon."

However powerful was the plea Leon could not obey it, his knees were far too weak, trembling with pent-up emotion. And so it was Arthur who knelt by his loyal knight's side and hugged him, waiting long enough for his loyal warrior to embrace him too and cry on his shoulder before holding him at arm's length.

"My Lord…" the knight repeated, as if he could not say it enough. "_My Lord_…"

"I'm here Leon." was what his King whispered with a soft smile. "I'm here."

Leon felt the sting of hot tears on his eyes when he demanded an explanation for such a miracle, "_How?..."_ and he couldn't help but smile when Arthur declared openly,

"I am needed now, Leon." The King's voice was unlike anything Leon had ever heard, the assurance and light that brightened his pale eyes was otherworldly.

Leon had never seen something as wonderful in his entire life.

"You were always needed my Lord." said the loyal knight, wiping the track of tears away. "Always."

Yet Arthur's smile faltered as those light, wise eyes settled on the blood that stained Leon's chainmail. "Now more than ever, it seems." he said. "Are you hurt, old friend?"

He was quick to shake his head for his tongue felt too heavy to form words and ease his King's- Arthur's…._Arthur's!-_ mind.

"Then _whose _is it Leon?"

It was Guinevere, of course, who asked the question. It was Guinevere who placed a hand on her loyal friend's shoulder and looked deep into his eyes, knowing and almost _beseeching_ him to speak the truth.

"It is not mine." Leon said gravely. "I don't know whose it is but probably from those hurt during Odin's attempt at a siege."

And even though the news weighed heavily on Sir Leon's soul there was hope in his eyes and strength in his voice. _Arthur_ was that hope. He was that courage that inflamed everyone's hearts.

"The army is advancing then." The Queen raised her chin with newborn defiance. "How far are they?"

There was a moment of silence before Leon answered.

"To reach the center of our lands will take them about two days Gwen."

The Queen stood straighter than before, as tense as a taut arrow ready to leave its bow. But then her beautiful eyes once again found her King, taking solace on the fact that, apart from the rightful anger present in Arthur's eyes ( eyes he closed after glancing down at his people), there was nothing in his features that detonated worry.

She knew that Arthur was not only her beloved husband and gentle king but something more- something deep and ancient and never understood. Something that she had only caught glimpses of throughout the years.

He was the Once and Future King of a prophesized reign, a being born of magic and _for _magic, a man that now held within a knowledge and wisdom that made his eyes blaze with deep azure fire. If she closed her eyes and held her breath she could see, as clear as she saw Arthur's glorious face, the words scribbled down by men that had seen what she had lived, words that had held her together in times she would've fallen apart.

_Quondam et futuris rex_

_Altus rex Britanniae.._

She turned again when Gaius spoke, using his cane to stop by her side.

"You mean_ if_ they do, Sir Leon." said the ancient physician with a knowing smile.

But no grin filled Sir Leon's lips and thus the smile fell from Gaius' face as quickly as it had flourished.

"They were able to get past the first two yards, Gaius." Leon's voice held plain disbelief. "I don't know how. But they did."

Raising his eyes to meet Leon's the physician could not stop his heart from shaking when he read in the depths of them what Leon was implying.

But before Gaius could negate _it _with all of his might, before Guinevere's hands were clasped together as she grasped the message hidden in Leon's words- Arthur's eyes opened and revealed once more his resurrected irises. He turned towards them and it was as if his every movement reflected the sun born light.

Rubbing with his thumbs the worn neckerchief and sighing as if his heart exhaled from within, the Once and Future King bored with his eyes those of his loyal knight, physician and beloved Queen.

"Is there any chance we might be victorious, Leon?"

As if by his words Arthur's sun-like presence reminded everyone of a hope long lost Leon's solemn face smoothed over and a smile took the place of his frown. He stumbled with his words, with the true joy and new promise they announced. But even so his hands trembled when he reached over to place his palm over his King's once cold and dead shoulder.

"_With you there is sire!_" he assured his King with effortless sincerity. "With you we can win, Arthur. With you we can win _any_ battle. I am certain of it."

Though Arthur opened his mouth to say something Leon's heart was already leaping with something akin to renewed youthfulness. Here was his King, alive and well, so that he could-

"Lead us into battle again, Arthur." He said as he knelt before the Once and Future King, looking up with the faithful gaze of the young knight he had once been. "Give us hope with your roar of courage, my King. Arthur…guide us towards victory-"

Arthur's hand on his aging head stopped him though, and when Leon looked up towards those light eyes that he would've followed into the mouth of hell he found himself speechless- for Arthur was shaking his head with a thin smile.

"I cannot, old friend." he said softly, with a smile that was slowly dying and eyes that were growing paler by the second. "It wouldn't be possible. Yes, I know now…not without- not without Merlin by my side."

There was a moment of sire before Leon's eyes- wide and beginning to shine with comprehension- found Guinevere's.

"M-Merlin sire?" he asked, almost timidly though he was had never been shy around Arthur before.

Arthur noticed it.

"What is it, Leon?"

"Sire." the knight climbed to his feet and sighed. "You do know that Merlin has not been seen for more than a decade, right?"

Arthur's eyes darkened and his lips formed a thin line as if the thought alone was enough for his worse fears to resurface.

"I believe…" came Gaius' soothing voice. "…that we might have a solution to that problem in..._Arthur_."

Arthur turned towards him faster than any of them, placing both of his hands on his dear physician's forearms. All of the desolation once present on his face was gone, as if it had never been.

"Is there a way?" he said with an unconcealed tremor in his voice. "Is there really, Gaius?"

Gaius' eyes were full of hope and light as well, mirroring his King's as he nodded and took a few unsteady steps so that he could place his wobbly hand on Arthur's broad chest, right above his beating pulse.

"Right here, my King." The old physician choked up as he spoke and though he was smiling wider than Leon had seen in a long time his eyes were already glimmering with tears. "I've seen Merlin use his heart to make his way back to you more times than what you would ever believe."

"I believe it, Gaius." whispered the Once and Future King, placing his strong hand on Gaius' own.

"There is no reason why you cannot do it too." Gaius' voice was almost too low to hear. When he looked right into Arthur's eyes the King could see the tears beginning to leak at the hope of seeing his ward once again. "Sire, things always have a reason for being. You being here…might mean Merlin can come back to us after all."

As Guinevere placed her soft hand in his and Leon stepped closer Arthur smiled. Though there were still shadows of an emptiness that could not be understood they were being slowly chased away and the Once and Future King's heart beat strongly with an unspoken promise.

"Guinevere." he raised his eyes to meet his wife's loving gaze and kissing her hand asked for what his soul was yearning too, as if the half of him that was Merlin's was already guiding his steps towards his lost warlock. "What else is left of Merlin?"

While he clutched the neckerchief tightly against his heart Guinevere's hand squeezed his and she said. "I think there is something you need to see, Arthur." she paused for a moment, smiling gently. "But we might need to find a cloak first. You were none-existent a few hours ago, my love."

When she handed him the very same worn blue cloak that he'd wore during his time as a young inexperienced King a fist closed around the King's heart.

_'You almost got me killed in there.'_ (1) he could remember it with painful clarity. Not for the first time he wondered why he had not said what was truly in his heart.

_'You almost got _yourself_ killed in there.'_

There were so many things that he should've acknowledged. And as Guinevere's loving hands tied the cloak around his shoulders he wished that Merlin would've seen what was hidden beneath all of his pride.

_'Just don't do it again.'_

He did not even noticed when he repeated it softly, just for himself. A prayer sent for Merlin, wherever he might be. '_Don't do it again_. Just wait for me.'

* * *

Eve though Guinevere walked before him Arthur didn't need her gentle guidance to make his way towards the end of the vaults, where Uther had once stored-_hidden_- every magical artifact that ever fell into his hands. As a boy, Arthur had been weary of entering the catacomb-like tunnels that guided him further and further away from what he loved and into the unknown, because he knew that if he walked in a straight line until the light of his torch was dim and the beating of his heart was quick, thrumming against his neck, he would reach a place in which air fluttered with the very substance he'd learned to hate.

But there had always been magic in the heart of Camelot. There had always been magic in Arthur's own. There had always been Merlin's heartbeat beating alongside Arthur's.

This time he did not hesitate when His beloved Queen halted and looked at the cavernous entrance of Uther's best guarded secret but pressed on with a the same fast pulse...though this time there was no fear but only hope.

"I left everything untouched after I discovered it." Gwen explained quickly, squeezing her King's hand once more before she let go to open the lock with the key that only she possessed. "I thought that it would be safer that way."

"As always, you were right Guinevere." Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder, holding the torch high so that the light spread around. "Thank you, my love."

No one moved- no one but _him_. With careful feet he climbed down the ancient steps and ran his fingers through the protruding rock until he found the carved path, about knee-high, that ran throughout the socketed chambers.

And then, with a soft glance at Gaius and Leon, he found the thread of oil running through the hollow rock and submerged the torch in the viscous liquid.

As if it was a mesmerizing act of the magic present around them the flames climbed higher and became brighter, flowing smoothly, zigzagging along the path it had been given, and illuminating everything as it went. Radiance and light filled the hollow chambers that Arthur had learned to fear.

Untouched, unmarred- as perfect as when they had been snatched from the hands of sorcerers and druids to be locked away forevermore- there were objects that Gaius had thought lost, things that Leon had never dreamed with, scrolls in which Guinevere had found solace. There were cups and goblets used by sorcerers unmarked in life as in death, wooden horses and wooden dragons that were once of value to druid children that never got to be adults, life-giving medicine that a heartbroken Uther had cruelly declared poison.

The fire traveled throughout the path already given and at last stopped with a glimmer of warmth-giving light. Yet it was the thing that hung above it what called to the Once and Future King with such insistence that once his eyes found it his breath was stolen away.

He was not aware- not aware of Guinevere calling his name with a parchment in her hand, not hearing Gaius' sighs of delight as he shook dust from things that belonged to a buried and distant past, nor Leon's surprise at discovering a golden bow among the silver spears- for a second, time stood still.

Arthur wondered if Uther ever knew _what_ he'd hung up with abhorrence in the cold stone of his catacombs in hopes of shunning away every last remnant of magic.

Before him there was a piece of embroidery with fading colors and blurring inscriptions. Hands had made it, long before he was born, to make people smile with its meaning, to make children stare up in awe at the solemn figures represented in its stitches. For there was a golden lion gazing proudly at the lionhearted King, holding its head high as its paws rested firmly above blurring marks that were the language of the Old Religion.

He did not need to know the lost language to understand its meaning for the words were engraved in his soul before his birth.

_The Once and Future King._

Arthur exhaled softly, brushing his thumb through worn threads of gold and red, of words whispered before his time, of hopes held within each of the careful seams, of knowledge thrust upon very few.

Tracing the lion's mane he felt his heart aflame with courage and willingness to fight for his beloved people. He was silent as he placed his palm atop the golden fabric and bowed his head so that he could remember for years to come the uninvited hope so many had placed on him.

It was after he raised his eyes again towards the ancient piece of embroidery that his gaze found the falcon, silent and watchful, resting its silver claws on the Lion's heavily muscled forelimb.

He knew what it was instinctively but nevertheless his heart jolted on his chest.

"A _merlin_." murmured the Once and Future King with reverence.

This time his hand shook when he reached to touch the gold and bronze beak with the softest section of his fingertips. The falcon's eyes were cold steel, boring into his, and Arthur could feel his heart stutter painfully inside him. He wondered if Merlin would look at him with the same lifeless indifference.

He wondered if he could bear it.

Arthur couldn't look away for a long moment. The tip of his fingers were white where they pressed themselves to the platinum bird, as if in the small contact he hoped to find something left of his dear friend.

When he finally pulled his gaze from the tender work he found that there was a tear carving a lonely path down his cheek.

"Arthur?" His beloved wife placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to face her frowning face. "Arthur, are you alright?"

With one last longing glance at the falcon he answered. "Perhaps we should go to Ealdor."

* * *

(1) Quote from 4x05, His Father's Son.

This was meant to be longer and I was supposed to read through it but Pre Calculus calls with its gloomy sounds of DOOM and I have to go slam my forehead against my Blitzer volume. Sorry for any inconsistencies and/or typos in here! :)

Gosh, I've got to do this too. ErinNovelist is doing it and so is Oz and thanks to both of them I've found really wonderful fics that I would've never ever stumbled across...I figured I would contribute with my little grain of sand. ;)

**rockpaperscissor's "Two Days"**- I don't know if its the sheer tenderness seeping from her every word or the pure, heartfelt emotion but this is definetly, hands down, one of the BEST reincarnation One-shots I've read. And I've read plenty. That fic has a dear place in my heart. And if you're up for a serious tear-jerking evening then check out Oz's _Something More ( _I'm still not over it. It's too beautiful.) after reading that. Yep, just go drown in angst.

I hope to see you soon, beautiful people!

Love, as always,

Ocean.


	4. In Truth

My excuse is a little phrase that is way too true for my liking: Calculus will be the _death_ of me. Dear graduation save me _now. _I'm honestly curious. How is it like for you math-understanding people? You are all geniuses, aren't you?

Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I'm not going to deny it. Having Hunith and Ealdor to write was a joy. :D

And guys, for those who don't know, there was a recent tragedy here in America, so I have a special little dedication: This is for the victims of the Boston Marathon Bombing. It's frightening, what our world's coming to. There were three people killed, all of them young and full of hope, that will never get a chance to grow old. It begs for a quick question, what are the limits of hate? We must remember that we should aim for comprehension and compassion NOT violence. Because people- _innocent_ people-always get caught in the crossfire.

* * *

"He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."  
― Emily Brontë, _Wuthering Heights_.

* * *

**Chapter III**

**In Truth.**

.

After he made up his mind and turned on his heels with renewed vigor, the once-king looked even brighter and greater than before. The very daylight seemed to filter the catacombs with the hope that rekindled in Arthur's pale eyes. He said nothing else and began walking towards the newly-made day and the stone hallways, knowing that his loyal knight, beloved wife and dear physician would follow.

When they were all marching through the slowly awakening castle and Arthur had already pulled up his hood, he explained, "_Ealdor_. I believe I should go to Ealdor."

"I'd go with you..." Gwen said wholeheartedly, squeezing his hand with hers. "But Camelot needs me now." she smiled up at him when Arthur's eyes grew troubled. "- and Merlin needs _you_." she reminded him. "Arthur I've ruled this kingdom on my own for about a decade. You needn't worry about me. About any of us."

"Guinevere…"

Leon placed his hand on Arthur's strong shoulder, forcing the once-king to look at him and see the truth of his words in the depth of his eyes,

"Sire, I believe we can hold Odin's army back long enough."

The King didn't answer but the tightness of his jaw as they reached the end of the hallway and stared down the high, tinted windows said enough. Though the army was still far away, even a young child with no experience in battle whatsoever could see how Camelot's chances were null.

With stormy eyes he surveyed the expansion of Odin's forces, knowing in his heart that, even if Camelot's men were outnumbered and the city was close to a siege, without Merlin he would _never-_

"Arthur." Guinevere's soft voice said on his ear and he turned towards her with a sigh, "Look."

When she pointed at the knights that were advancing towards them Arthur's eyes beheld an otherworldly sight. The men stopped advancing as he watched, astounded, how those marching on front fell to the ground in apparent pain and the ones that followed them rocked backwards, as if the sudden and foreign cry of thunder, followed by an abrupt an unnatural light, was their doom.

His brow smoothed over when he understood why Guinevere was smiling so confidentially by his side and Leon's earlier assertion.

"Merlin." The King whispered and felt pride like no other wash over his heart. Whatever fury he'd felt earlier at knowing of his warlock's disappearance turned into shame when he saw that, even if Merlin had left, he'd never forgotten that this was Arthur's beloved kingdom and his_ home_.

"Merlin." Gwen confirmed by his side with affection. "_Our_ Merlin, Arthur. We believe that before he left he created barriers all around Camelot."

Too many memories came back at once and he could only stare at the last reminder of his friend- those power-filled walls of thundering light- as he remembered Merlin's passionate and undying oaths, ones he'd never taken too seriously until the very end.

But it was then when a loud battle-cry filled pierced the morning's silence and Arthur saw the magic-born wall fluctuate and tremble, as if it had been weakened terribly on the space of a few seconds. Before he even knew it the once-king was running sideways with a speeding heart. He could see the shield tremble like if it was a thin wall of water as he rushed through the empty hallways, trying- and failing- to see the end of Merlin's enchantment. But the shimmering wall of liquid power seemed to be endless and so he stopped in front of a high window and stared in awe. When he backed away, as if by instinct, and turned around, he found that he had been right. The wall rose up around the castle as a protective globule of scintillating liquid. (1)

Guinevere's hand found his when the loud thunder filled the air again and a blinding light, like that of lightning, zigzagged through the sky for a blinding second.

"Yesterday-." Leon spoke slowly, finding his place by Arthur's side and looking over his King's shoulder. "-they were able to get past the first two yards. It should've been impossible and yet..."

He gestured to the fluctuating energy around them, knowing well that there had never been even a breach on the pure magic that surrounded Arthur's lands.

Gaius spoke up even before Arthur had addressed him.

"It cannot be." He said, and then shook his head, as if to banish new unpleasant theories from his mind. "It _can't_ be."

"What is it Gaius?" Gwen asked, placing her hand over Arthur's tensing shoulder.

But before the good physician could voice his thoughts the Once and Future King had already shrugged off her hand and pulled up the hood he'd let down, rushing down the stairs and storming through the hallways, abandoning all pretenses of stealth and low profile. The physician hurried and followed him for Merlin had always acted as flustered whenever Arthur needed him.

"Sire!" he screamed after his King, stopping and letting his cane support his quivering legs for a moment. "_Arthur_."

The blond man turned around and the desperate look in Arthur's light blue eyes stabbed fear into Gaius' old heart like nothing else ever could.

"Arthur." He said slowly, looking on as the once-king retraced his steps to stand beside him. "These spells are not childish games. It requires great skill to do such an enchantment and even greater power to hold it in place-"

With one hand on Gaius' forearm Arthur interrupted harshly, "But what we just saw cannot be normal Gaius. I know magic well enough to know that whatever the _hell_ is going on has to do with the sorcerer who cast it… _Merlin_-" he closed his eyes before going on. "My father once told me that magic dissipates _with_ the magic user. Gaius_…. could it be?"_

Gaius released a breath before answering, though he wished with all his might it would not be true. "Perhaps, sire."

For one instant Arthur stood there, looking into his physician's wise eyes with his own, and then he was running again before Gaius could say a word. And when his wife and loyal knight attempted to get his attention as they walked briskly towards him, he held out a hand like he used to in years past, a hand that had stopped Agravaine once from using his tongue to incinerate the simmering desperation inside him, '_I'm sorry __you have lost such a loyal__ and-_'(2) and that now, he hoped, would stop his Guinevere from trying to soften the panic that was spreading through his veins.

Because the thought of what the oscillating magic could mean filled him with new steady purpose and determination and as he rushed through the courtyard he thought that perhaps he could ride all through the night and never stop until he'd reached Ealdor…

"Arthur!" Gwen's slender fingers wrapped around his wrist when he reached the gate of the stables. She forced him to look at her eyes and the reassurance there halted him on his tracks. "I know you're worried about Merlin." his Queen assured him with a knowing smile. "But you must believe me when I say that worrying will not accomplish anything. I know Merlin as well as I know you and I _know _with all my heart that he's waiting for you somewhere Arthur. _Waiting_. He'll be alright."

Arthur suddenly found that his pulse was not speeding as greatly anymore and he smiled down at his Queen. Guinevere had once again been his gentleness and guidance, as she had been during all of his youth and reign. She held him a satchel filled with essential goods and, in awe, the King wondered if there was any way she could be any more perfect.

He mounted after kissing her hand and held it from atop the horse, knowing that Guinevere could see all the love he held for her in his eyes.

"Thank you, Guinevere." he said, and he meant it with everything he had. "Thank you."

Leon placed his hand on his King's knee for the tiniest moments before nodding and stepping back. Daybreak gave way to the early morning and now Arthur could see the castle come alive, people coming and going, injured citizens being conducted to shelters and Camelot's knights slowly emerging from their quarters, readying themselves for a battle that was slowly approaching.

"Take care of them." He asked of his loyal knight, resting one hand on Leon's armored shoulder. "I'll bring Merlin back as soon as I can. I promise."

No one doubted him and they all nodded as the Once and Future King went forth, golden and regal against the morning sun.

* * *

When he'd first traveled that road Arthur had been driven by a childish desire to prove himself, Morgana's taunts and his own pride. Yet, there was something more that he hadn't recognized back then when he was a newly crowned prince- he had no name for it then and he still couldn't name it now, an almost too-great void where Merlin had once stood, one that he could not bear. Because Merlin had never guaranteed that he'd be back to stand at his rightful and foretold place. By Arthur's side.

'_You're coming back.'_ He never worded it as a question for he knew then, deep in his heart, that Merlin would not leave forever.

The horse was as restless as he and neither of them drank or stopped if it could be helped though, at the end, night fell upon them and very reluctantly the King guided his horse towards nearby houses whose windows shone bright with warmth from within.

He sought shelter on a little tavern that stood by the side of the road, smiling inwardly, for he remembered how desolate that same path was when he was King. The innkeeper took his horse towards the back stables as promptly as George would've and if the woman who received him and coaxed him to sit by the warm hearth ever thought that the solid gold coins he paid with were too valuable to be real she said not a word.

He watched from his place by the cozy fire, the way his people greeted each other with no fear or suspicion upon his eyes as far as he could tell, and his heart throbbed with happiness when he realized that the venom of his father's and Morgana's hatred had long since dissipated and so had the fear upon so many men and women.

He could not repress a smile from below his hood when he witnessed an elderly man commanding his mug of mead closer by the means of magic and it grew even more pronounced when no one so much as glanced in the sorcerer's direction.

But that wasn't all that prompted the sheer gratitude and pride inside of him. When the innkeeper asked the sorcerer to keep the fire blazing since he could no longer go out with such cold, ('my fingers are freezing, I tell ye.') and a frail-looking young woman asked him to take a look at a small scratch she'd received when she'd fallen earlier, the Once and Future King's heart fluttered with elation.

Soon, as the night grew darker and chillier, the man settled by Arthur's side with his mead still clutched tightly in one hand, glancing at the foretold king only once. But one glance was enough. He blinked before speaking, gruffly,

"You're not from these lands, are you?" (3)

Arthur considered it for a moment before answering, "No. You could say I'm not." he watched as the man's eyes burned with the magic inside of him and the slowly dying hearth rekindled and the flames climbed higher. "You're a sorcerer." Arthur stated and for the first time his voice held none of the disgust and fear he'd been taught of.

"I prefer the term _magic-user_." said the man, stepping closer and taking one sip of his mug. "Sorcerer brings back terrible memories."

His eyes darkened and so did Arthur's though he never saw it. "You're young." the sorcerer continued, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "-and you're a foreigner. You probably know nothing of Uther Pendragon's reign of terror."

The words struck something inside Arthur and he sat straighter, he couldn't stop a small sigh from escaping and the man glanced in his direction as if to try and see his face but the hood was still in place.

"…reign of terror?" the once-king repeated, and his voice sounded lower and deeper than it actually was.

"We were hunted back then." said the gruff sorcerer with eyes that were growing clouded as he dwelt in haunting memories. "Killed like worthless cattle, rounded up and counted as if we were inferior to the dogs." A gurgle interrupted him when he gulped down more mead. "I haven't been able to sleep properly in years. Still can't."

Arthur did not lift his eyes from the fire, but his voice was careworn, almost pleading, when he spoke again.

"_Now you are free_." said the once-king.

"Queen Guinevere has been the greatest thing that ever happened to Albion." agreed the curt man with a small nod, not knowing that his words had Arthur smiling with love and pride below his hood. "But even she cannot erase the years of pain inflicted upon the innocents."

As if he had decided he had enough of reminiscing all memories the man suddenly stood up, abruptly knocking his stool to the side. "Be grateful boy." said he as he passed by Arthur. "…that you were not here to see those times."

And as Arthur watched him leave, finally turning around and letting his hood down so that he could rub his hands through his face, he couldn't help but wish that the man's words had been true.

* * *

When he reached Ealdor it was already mid-morning. The village before him was nothing like what he remembered and yet it was the same. The extremely humble cottages he'd seen so long ago were now brick houses, a small, well-kept well stood proudly in the center of the town and there were no signs of scarcity whatsoever, the fields were golden with wheat and the tree branches heavy with fruits. But even though Ealdor was no longer in dire need of help the same soft breeze blew, making the atmosphere as warm and welcoming as it had always been.

He found Hunith bent over the blazing sun, gathering with her hands that year's harvest, humming quietly to herself. When a great shadow fell over her she stopped and looked up, squinting as if to see the tall man before her better though the bright light did not let her. She struggled with the weight of the baskets on her shoulders and without a thought Arthur reached out to take the fruit-filled hamper, noticing how his throat became dry when the grateful smile she directed him was _Merlin's_.

"Thank you," she said softly, straightening and running her hand over her temples, already stained with silver. "I think that, to compensate last year's drought, nature is giving us everything she has. It's been years since I've seen such a great harvest."

She laughed; wiping her hands on her apron, never seeing how the tall man before her sucked a breath at the sound, for it was as if he was hearing Merlin's joyful laugh again back when he was a stubborn prince and his warlock a clumsy manservant…

"Who are you?" asked Hunith, squinting still but unable to see properly. Whatever answer Arthur was about to give was lost on the small wince of discomfort she gave when the heavy basket almost slipped from her hands.

"Allow me to help you." Arthur offered immediately, not waiting for the protests that were sure to come and just taking the basket on his strong hands and putting the strap over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I can manage it."

After trying again and failing to see below the hood Hunith simply smiled, gently taking Arthur's free hand with her own. "The sun is too bright. Come on, I'll give you a bit of cool water."

Hunith's home was just as Arthur remembered it, with the same stools and floral scent, with the apples stacked by the side and a worn book opened in the dining table. But now, as Hunith turned away and fumbled with a jug full of fresh water Arthur took his time to look around him after setting the baskets on the nearby table, and his gaze settled upon the wooden frame of the door.

There were little markings that looked as if made with a blade, little dents on the dark surface that he traced with the tip of his fingers, following them down until he reached a knee-high height and found himself crouching on his knees to read a carved inscription.

_Merlin._ it said.

And suddenly Arthur understood and felt his eyes soften and a smile blossom as he traced the dents back up until he was straight again, knowing that Hunith had used the wooden door frame to measure Merlin's growth. (4)

He felt another wave of loss wash over him. His eyes pricked and his heart throbbed in his chest; and he became aware of what was so inherently wrong, that he'd never been without Merlin's company more than a few days and that had always been bad enough. Now, however, almost fifteen years had gone by without hearing Merlin's voice, without seeing his bright grin. Oh, in the space of a few seconds he realized that he _missed_ Merlin. Missed Merlin with all his heart and perhaps even more, noticed the empty space by his right with striking clarity whenever he walked and tried to never think of how_ unnatural_ it felt, to be without him.

He turned around when he heard Hunith place the jug down and say joyfully, "Here you are. If you're still thirsty I have plenty more-"

She stopped and her mouth opened in what must've been a scream though it transformed into a hoarse demand.

"_Who are you?" _

Hunith had seen him now and Arthur understood that she was seeing a ghost and perhaps if he'd thought better of it he wouldn't have said it so bluntly but he was still trying to fight the aching on his chest.

"I'm Arthur." he replied, not noticing how her eyes narrowed in suspicion when tried to smile. "It's me. Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur did not have time to utter another word before Hunith had settled the jug and the goblet upon her table with a hollow thump – strongly enough to spill water all over- and reached for what looked like an old dusty broom. "Who are you?" her voice was now dangerously low as she pointed the tip of her makeshift weapon at a wide-eyed Arthur. "I know Arthur Pendragon is dead. You cannot fool me."

If Arthur had ever doubted the ability of a broom to inflict damage he knew now how wrong he was, struggling to speak with the tip of Hunith's weapon of choice pressed against his throat. "It is really me." He managed. "I swear it, Hunith. I came back I- what can I do so you'll believe me?"

The wooden tip forced him to lift his chin. "_Prove it_."

Arthur tried not to think on how incredibly scary that gentle woman looked now and attempted to lift his voice though the movement of his throat hurt his windpipe.

"About twenty years ago…" he blurted out, "We came here to help with a man that was taking away livestock and food-"

Hunith narrowed her eyes, "Try something else." she said dryly, "the Lady Morgana was here too when that happened. She could've fed you information."

At the mention of Morgana – that caring woman he used to know, the one that had helped an improvised village out of the goodness of her soul- the once-king felt his pulse speed up and sadness creep over his heart but shook his head to rid himself from the memories.

Hunith still watched him, distrust evident in her face and those eyes that were so similar to Merlin's – if a shade or two paler- were studying him wearily, as if she wanted to believe even if she knew it could not be true.

It wasn't until a few heartbeats went by that Arthur found himself saying, "_Merlin_."

Something flashed across Hunith's eyes and the Once and Future King went on, letting an onslaught of memories flicker before his mind eye, recalling everything that he treasured within his heart.

"Merlin-" he repeated, and the name alone brought peace as he forced himself to speak of things he held dearly within him, things he'd never said out loud. "He's- he's clumsy and never knocks and he's-"

He stopped, looking down at Hunith and seeing the creasing of her brow beginning to soften, so he continued,

"He likes blackberries." said Arthur softly knowing that, should we close his eyes, he would see Merlin's twinkling eyes as he plucked fruit from blackberry bushes during their hunts but he kept them open and instead, he saw how Hunith's steady grip on her broom trembled. "…and when he works…he hums, just like you. When he- when he _smiles_…" and Arthur couldn't help but let his lips curl upwards at the memories of banter long-forgotten, at the thought of Merlin's impish grins, the ones that always brought joy and warmth, were it day or night. "…there are dimples on his cheeks. He likes to spend hours looking at the clouds; God knows that's why it takes him so long to wake up in the mornings…and he- he has a scar on his right hand, right below his forefinger. He told me he and Will were climbing trees and he tried to reach for an apple-"

The broom fell down with a hollow sound and he sucked in a proper breath while rubbing his throat before looking up at Hunith. She was steadying herself with a firm grip on the edge of the table, smiling through new tears that fell as she beheld the otherworldly sight of her son's precious King.

"It is really you." she said, covering a part-sob, part-guffaw with her hand upon her mouth. "It is _really _you, Arthur Pendragon."

He nodded, smiling, and suddenly Hunith was no longer by the table but embracing him all too tightly, in a display of a motherly gesture that Arthur had never received. His eyes widened and he tried to speak but no words came out while Hunith held him a little closer and he found that no one had ever hugged him quite like that.

Hunith backed away, flushed and bright-eyed, with a twinkle upon her eyes that made her look about twenty years younger. "I'm sorry sire," she said, though she did not sound sorry at all. "I don't know what came over me."

"You don't need to apologize," answered Arthur with a delighted smile. "It's alright."

"But you're alive." she said with wonder, placing her hands over the divots in his cheeks, almost as if Arthur were a son to her as well. And perhaps he was. "_How_ are you alive?"

"Destiny." was all that Arthur supplied and Hunith did not question him but rather pulled him over so that he sat on one of the stools, facing her.

" So all was _true_, then." He heard her whisper.

When Arthur looked down and saw the small carved dragon- obviously drawn by a child- on the worn surface of the table he could not take his eyes of it for a long moment. He remembered his own young hands waving a Pendragon red banner around the room and, as he tenderly placed the pad of his thumb over the old wood, he wondered just how much his and Merlin's souls were entwined.

When he looked up Hunith was watching him like she'd never seen anything as wonderful in her life. For a long moment he said nothing, and then he simply stated what he knew was true from the moment he saw entered the village, "Merlin's not here."

And though it hurt to admit it Hunith's downcast eyes confirmed it and he felt the last, desperate remnants of hope he held onto disappear. Letting out a sigh, he placed a hand on his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut when Hunith's soft voice reminded him of Merlin's.

"No, he is not." she said softly, "he's-"

She stopped for a moment, as if considering what to say next. "I haven't seen him in a while. Almost two years."

The words weighed heavily on Arthur's careworn soul and he nodded, almost as if he was already expecting them, massaging his forehead with his thumb and forefinger in an effort to stop the tears of frustration that were forming behind his eyes.

"I understand." he rubbed his hands through his face. "I just hoped…"

He no longer bothered to hide the desperation in the depths of his eyes when he looked up at Hunith again and tried to find words, "I just…"

"Arthur." He saw her take his hand in hers with a smile and for a moment he could almost see Merlin smiling through her. "It's alright."

He forced his eyes to see in hers the soft assurance his dear friend's always held and imagined that somehow, someway, perhaps his warlock was helping him.

"Thank you Hunith."

Though he never knew why he said it the words felt right against his tongue, truthful. When the kind woman asked what for, he already knew the answer, and he meant it with all his heart. "…For Merlin."

They locked gazes and as Hunith smiled and patted his hand he felt a foreign warmth overcome him, for it was almost as if she knew already what Arthur was trying to convey in three little words though she could not- nor would she ever- understand what Merlin was for him.

There was no prelude, no glorious chorus or heaven sent light for what Hunith said next and yet, in those moments, her candid face and tender words did what years of Merlin's own reassurances and unspoken promises could not.

"You meant _everything_ to him, Arthur."

It was then when Once and Future King understood the extent of a devotion he'd barely glimpsed at when alive and he felt his face scrunch in an effort to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. He brought Hunith's hands nearer and placed his forehead over their intertwined fingers, knowing that the words she'd just spoken were the absolute truth.

"I know." he choked out, and he never cared that he sounded like a child pleading for forgiveness. "I know_ now_."

Hunith's fingers tightened around his and he raised his gaze to find her staring at him with such compassion that Arthur wondered if she somehow had seen the extent of his pain written on his eyes.

"It's alright, my Lord." Hunith said, shushing him in a way no one ever had before. "He knows too."

She knelt by him in the otherworldly silence that now reigned over her humble home, Arthur's hands still clutching hers as if he'd never let go, and when the once-king_ finally_ looked up at her she felt wonder fill her heart at the silent plea for a miracle she could read on that worn face.

"When Merlin was a little child he used to play outside, right by those trees." she nodded towards her window and saw Arthur's eyes flicker subtly as he caught sight of the little place that had been Merlin's playground, coming alive with something foreign and ancient. But it was soon gone and the little nod Arthur gave was all the encouragement she needed to go on. "He came back home exhausted and covered in mud...and yet he always looked so _happy_."

She watched as the man before her smiled with the thought of days long past and joy-filled days and squeezed her hands tighter.

"He told me he truly wished his magic could help him fly," her heart rejoiced alongside Arthur's when she remembered her little boy and those sweet, tender years of Merlin's youth. "the gods know I thought these were just silly ideas!...but he always did looked for something he could not find. And I know now, Arthur..." she held the gaze of the Once and Future King with her own as the tender words went past her lips. "that he was looking for _you_."

Upon hearing this Albion's prophesied King rose his gaze with something new in the depths of his resurrected eyes, looking for all the world like a newly ignited spark of the sun, for an ancient and dormant part of his soul had suddenly awoken and, while looking at Hunith with uncontainable emotion he saw in the small frame of that incredible woman Merlin's own presence and affection- reaching him.

"I was_ lost_ without him." it no longer hurt his pride to admit how much Merlin had changed him and helped him, how much his warlock- and only he- had made him anew, because he knew he was recognizing an unbendable truth. His words were not quite enough to convey it all but words were all he had and so the Once and Future King whispered, "I owe him so much..." (5)

With one hand on top of his and the other resting on the table, piercing with his eyes Arthur's own, Merlin's mother did not stop smiling as she said, very softly, "I am sure that, should Merlin be here, he would tell you the same Arthur."

and Arthur just said quietly, _" yes,"_ while the memory of Merlin's fervently promising, '_I'm glad to be your servant, till the day I die_.' echoed in his heart and beat soundlessly in the peacefulness of Hunith's home, reminding Arthur of a truth higher than any other, that he and Merlin would find each other for they were destiny and it was fate- two halves of a whole.

"It's alright now."said Hunith, patting his hand in an inborn gesture of motherly love. "I know of the legends Arthur..."she told him in a tremolous whisper, with overly-bright eyes, " and I know that Merlin is your brother as much as he is my son."

The Once and Future King couldn't help the smile that embarked his face when those words reached his ears and thought, in the quietude of his mind, that Hunith's words could not be truer.

With tender eyes she added, " Merlin's home is _your_ home. Why don't you stay here tonight?"

And Arthur did.

* * *

(1) Basically, I keep thinking of Hogwarts' protective charms and the way it all crackled and shimmered when Voldemort casts powerful magic at it to finally break it. (7nth movie (part 2)/ book.)

(2) Quote from 4x06. A Servant of Two Masters.

(3) During the whole exchange I thought of the guy speaking with a strong Irish accent ( can be blamed on my re-watch of Braveheart ) but I have no idea how to actually write it. ;)

(4) I listened to 'The Bond of Sacrifice' – Merlin Soundtrack- while writing this and Oh my… the feels. Feels all over.

(5) " I was so alone...and I owe you so much." John Watson, BBC's Sherlock.

Though I feel as if I don't need to promote her work because she is shamelessly talented I have to say, **OneDarkandStormyNight's** pieces are a delight to read. All of them. If any of you are looking for reincarnation fics I'd suggest 'The Voice in the Dream' which is a wonderful, brilliant work of art. ;)

Till later and of course, with love,

Ocean


	5. The Storm

Hello people!

All of you are awesome. If you're having a bad day wherever you are I hope you know that a girl on the internet -that tends to call her dog 'my baby' and 'my love' because she actually loves him too much for it to be sane- thinks you're awesome.

So... I am about two months late. Yikes. This chapter was like pulling teeth, mostly because I didn't know where to begin. I knew what I wanted and I went back and forth between doing this from Merlin's POV or from Arthur's….and at the end decided to stick with the plan and do Arthur's even though that meant I'd leave all of you with a terrible cliffie. ( So sorry about that!)

Anyway, I just want to apologize and assure you that I won't abandon this fic. In fact, if everything goes the way it's supposed to go, a hiatus that long will never happen again.

* * *

"In the stormy east wind straining,  
The pale yellow woods were waning,  
The broad stream in his banks complaining,  
Heavily the low sky raining  
Over tower'd Camelot."_  
_-Tenysson ' The Lady of Shalott'

* * *

**Chapter IIII**

**The Storm. **

.

For the first time in fifteen years Arthur woke up to the sound of someone walking softly up and down the room, to sunlight warming his face and the scent of a delicious meal tickling his nose. He thought for one small moment he was back in Camelot. He _knew_ Merlin was about to sing-song his accustomed _'rise and shine!_' and just as he reached out to grab the goblet that would _certainly_ be there he realized the bed he was in was actually _not_ his-

He opened his eyes.

The sight that greeted him was the sun rising above Hunith's home and for a rare moment the King forgot everything but what he was seeing on the other side of the window. As soon as the first rays touched the scenery they illuminated everything with a faint glow that turned leaves to gold and the streams of water Arthur could see to silver. Not for the first time, in the quiet solitude that surrounded him as he watched the little village waking up from his window, he wondered _why _Merlin had left Ealdor.

Then everything came back in a blinding rush of colors and sounds-_ Camlann, _soundless and gory after the battle… and then everything that came_ after_.

He sat up on the makeshift bed with the echoes of war cries ringing in his ears but a soft voice replaced them,

"Are you awake, Arthur?"

And as he nodded yes he opened his eyes and saw Hunith smile at him from over the table with those eyes of hers twinkling as she announced lightly. "Good. Five more minutes and you would've gotten a '_rise and shine._' Merlin always woke up with that one." she poured what looked like milk on a cup. "Although I know that you are not too _fond _of it…" she continued, not without a laugh. "…are you my Lord?"

"You know, Hunith." he answered with a small yawn, rubbing his eyes. "If someone had woken _you_ up with that every single morning for at least _three whole years_ you wouldn't be fond of it _either_."

Hunith chuckled and shook her head fondly, placing a jug down as Arthur registered that there was breakfast on the table and opened his eyes willingly.

"Are those _sausages_?" he asked, hardly believing what his nose was telling him and jumping up so fast that he almost tripped over Hunith's lumpy blanket.

Merlin's mother smiled widely and gestured towards the table were Arthur saw-in a George like display of raw talent-sausages, a jug full of warm milk, fresh fruit and bread….

"…How?"

"We've had an excellent harvest this year." Hunith replied, smiling from ear to ear. Arthur recalled her telling him that the day before. "Besides, Merlin has hinted over the years what you like to eat, more or less."

Hunith didn't stop smiling as Arthur thanked her from the bottom of his heart and began eating, later he declared that it was '_one of the best sausages I've ever tasted._" more than a little bit stunned since he still remembered the foul gruel (1) Hunith had given him all those years ago.

"That's very kind of you My Lord." Hunith told him warmly, smiling. Arthur said nothing when her smile slowly died and was replaced with a soft frown as she folded her hands, knowing what she would say.

"What will you do _now, _Arthur?"

"Keep looking." The Once and Future King replied without hesitation, leaning over so that Hunith could see in his eyes just how sincere he was. "I will not stop until I find him."

Her blue eyes shone with assurance when she spoke next, "You _will_ find him Arthur."

He smiled and bowed his head slightly even though he had to clear his throat before letting her know that: _"that's just what Merlin would've said."_

Hunith smiled and squeezed his hand in that maternal way of hers that made Arthur like her all the more. With one glance outside the window her grin grew wider, "look at the dawn, Arthur. Isn't it beautiful?"

It was, Arthur agreed with her wholeheartedly. But her statement only seemed to make some of his old questions surface as he wondered, once again, _why _Merlin had left for Camelot all those years ago.

So when he glanced at Hunith again he couldn't help but sigh and say what was on his mind.

"_Why_ didn't Merlin stay?" he asked her softly.

Hunith looked at him again, confusion clear on her face. "What do you mean?"

"It's something I never quite understood." Arthur clarified with that newly found tact and maturity that his years on Avalon had taught him. "_Why _did you send Merlin to Camelot?"

She looked at him for a few moments until her eyes lightened with understanding and a small smile touched her lips briefly. After filling Arthur's goblet with milk and placing another sausage on his plate she lifted her gaze and watched him for a few moments, as if trying to work out what to say.

"Merlin never told you?" she asked at last, titling her head to the side.

Arthur felt as if someone had slapped him. Not only because he had assumed he knew everything that there was to know about Merlin after Avalon. (he'd spent his time on there talking with Balinor, Freya and Lancelot after all.) but also because of the surprise that laced Hunith's voice. As if she had truly expected him to know.

Unable to find any words he shook his head 'no.'

Hunith squeezed his hand once again, looking at him sympathetically with those twinkling eyes of hers that were almost the exact replica of her son's, sitting straighter on her stool.

"I never _sent_ Merlin to Camelot." Hunith told him, not without a subtle flash on her eyes. (2)

The Once and Future King could do nothing but stare at her for a few seconds, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing as memories rushed before his eyes. "I don't understand..."

"I said_, I never sent Merlin to Camelot._" Hunith repeated firmly. "After what King Uther did to Balinor…" she patted Arthur's tanned hand with hers when he looked down in shame. "How could I send my_ son_ to a place where he would be killed as soon as he demonstrated what he could do?"

Arthur looked up as she spoke with pleading eyes, an apology forming on his lips but before he could say anything Hunith had already squeezed his hand again and whispered kindly, "I don't want your apologies Arthur. It was _not your fault."_

He felt his cheeks flush at Hunith's words as a new wave of affection for this amazing woman swept over him. But the question still remained unanswered and so he said after taking a deep breath. "Then _how?"_

"Merlin begged me to let him go." Hunith said softly, and something inside Arthur's chest thundered against his rib cage as the words reached him, shaping a new thought inside of his mind that he didn't dare to believe…

"Even then?" he found himself whispering, staring at Hunith with a wide-eyed gaze that flashed with this new and sudden epiphany. "_Even then…?"_

Hunith nodded, softer that Arthur would've thought possible, smiling the slightest bit.

"Now that I look back I understand." she said as she looked away, "We were sitting just like you and I are now, eating and I'd suggested….I can't believe this happened over twenty years ago…I'd suggested that he should go away, find a purpose for his gifts. And he immediately asked if he could go to Camelot."

Hunith let out a fond chuckle.

"I remember thinking that he'd gone suicidal. Will and I, we tried to make him understand what Camelot could do to someone like him but there was nothing that could make him change his mind." He fixated her gentle eyes on Arthur and smiled a bit more. "At last I gave in and told him he could stay with Gaius."

The King looked at her with newfound admiration, "That was…brave of you."

"Was it?" said Hunith with a smile still on her lips. "Merlin _is_ incredibly stubborn."

The Once and Future King smiled too, knowing that Hunith's assertion was true and feeling the absence on his right side stronger than ever. He dragged his hand across his face and swallowed the lump on his throat before looking at her again, pleading her to continue with the look on his eyes.

"I think he knew-" Hunith went on with another soft squeeze of her son's soul-brother hand. "-of his destiny. I believe he felt that he was needed in Camelot."

"He _was_." Arthur told her in the softest of whispers. "…He was needed."

She smiled tenderly at him as Arthur's gaze founds hers again.

"You changed _him _too, did you know?" she said with a small nod and bright eyes, looking on affectionately as a look of bewilderment crossed Arthur's handsome face. He glanced at her questioningly, as if he didn't believe it. And so she nodded again.

"You _did_. Arthur. When my son left home he was a restless boy searching for a purpose and just a few months after….when I saw him again….He became a man by your side."

Touched, the King could only stare at her as the lump on his throat grew in size and became almost impossible to swallow. Hunith simply squeezed his hand once more before raising up to put the goblets and the empty plates away.

Arthur stared at the window as the villagers started to come out from their houses and began their chores for the day, smiling slightly when he saw a few children chase each other with wooden swords. But his mind was elsewhere, lost in too many memories of his childhood and things Merlin had said- things_ Freya_ had said….

What he had _seen. _What he'd seen at the beginning of those never-ending fifteen years.

"I _have _to find him." he said softly, not even realizing he had spoken out loud.

Even though Hunith didn't answer, she didn't have to. The look on her eyes was enough to tell Arthur that she understood, perhaps better than anyone else, what he was going through. In the end, she'd raised Merlin and thus she _knew._

It hit him, then. And he almost jumped up from his seat in his haste to reach Hunith and look into her eyes when he asked…

"How is he, Hunith?"

She looked away from the window and fixed her blue eyes on him before she sighed- and at that moment Arthur's heart began beating painfully quickly inside his chest as all of the false sense of security he'd managed to build up- because magic was _free _and wasn't it what Merlin had _wanted_?- came crumbling down.

"You've _seen_ him." The King went on hoarsely when Hunith did not answer. "You've _spoken_ with him. Please, Hunith…I_ need_ to know."

It took a while but at last she looked at him. And maybe it was the open and plain worry on Arthur's face what made her take both of his hands in hers and take a deep breath.

"I don't know what to tell you, Arthur." she said. "I know that he came home a week or two after the battle and said nothing-did nothing. Then he took off again and that's the way it has been for all of these years."

"But he's…" Arthur searched for words, "He's alright, then?"

He couldn't repress a wince at the thought of the shields that surrounded Camelot crumbling down to dust and ashes.

He didn't see Hunith's eyes flash with something he couldn't have named but the way her jaw tensed was enough to send his heart into a full-speed gallop. _Surely,_ the thought desperately as he swallowed uselessly, surely Hunith wouldn't have let her son go if he was in any kind of life-threatening state…?

"It depends on what you _mean_ by alright, Arthur." she said, her eyes unreadable and her hands clasped tightly together. "He's as healthy as a horse, if that's what you are asking. I don't think I've ever seen a grey hair on his head."

The King didn't even try to conceal his relief this time, rubbing a hand down his face and grinning so widely that his cheeks began to hurt. Perhaps he was wrong and perhaps the shield coming down was not a preamble to one of the things he feared the most on the world…

But then again, Hunith had seen Merlin last two years ago and he knew, better than anyone, how time changes men.

"What _else _can be wrong with him?" he said, almost incredulously after swatting his last thought away with a shake of his head and remembering what Hunith had told him.

For the first time since he'd known her, Hunith looked _away_ as she said quietly,

"He _saw you_ _die _Arthur."

He froze as his mind went back to that terrible moment when he'd thought the gods had punished him with a solitary pilgrimage upon the earth, _without Merlin_. All of the agony he'd felt came rushing back with a vengeance as he remembered once again that Merlin had been_ alone_. He'd been alone, _without_ his Once and Future King for as long as fifteen years….

Memories crawled back to the surface, pulling his face into a grimace as he understood in its entirety what Hunith had meant with those five words. He let go of her hands-almost as if they'd burnt him- though it was not her hands but her words what weighed heavily on his soul.

"I've never-"Hunith's voice was soft and yet her words stabbed Arthur's heart deeper and more painfully than Mordred's blade. "-_never _seen anything like it. He lost himself, Arthur."

His throat burned with emotions as he turned away from Hunith, unable to look into her eyes any longer for the truth was staring at him in their depths, trying and failing to form words- because there weren't any.

"I-" his voice broke nevertheless, "I am so s_orry_."

Hunith shook her head tiredly and for the first time Arthur could see the years that weighed her down.

"It is _not _your fault." She assured him, and as sudden as it had been gone the fire returned to her and she looked at the King straight on his eyes, daring him to ever think the contrary.

He looked away and she placed a hand on his shoulder, saying again without a shadow of uncertainty or insincerity. "It is not your fault. You _will _find him Arthur and I know in my heart that everything will be alright."

Arthur Pendragon raised his gaze and saw, not for the first time, the essence of Merlin in that woman's wonderful face. He smiled, feeling as if Merlin himself had assured him of a victory over Camelot's foes.

It was then when the first thunder broke the peace of the morning sky.

* * *

When the walls that kept Camelot safe crashed down they did so without a sound- effortlessly, not putting up the fight they'd been waging from the moment Odin's men started to bang on it with their spells and swords-….and perhaps if the enemies of Camelot would've stopped to consider it the same way Queen Guinevere, Sir Percival, Sir Leon and Gaius did, they would've backed down and fled as soon as it happened.

They did not. They let out a long and shrill cry of victory as they marched forwards, all of them led by the unmistakable and worn down King Odin, who sheathed his sword as he advanced, as if he thought he would not need it anymore.

The Queen of Camelot turned away from the window, fully intending on facing Odin herself and demanding him to turn and leave, but stopped dead when lightning- much brighter, stronger and brilliant than any other she'd seen recently- cursed through the white sky. In fact, she thought as she watched, it brought back the vivid memories of Camlann.

"Gwen, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to speak to them." Gwen answered, smoothing over her dress as she went on, pushing past the frightened people that were now crowded inside the castle. "Maybe they'll listen. There's no need to cause any unnecessary bloodshed."

She saw the hopeless look on Leon's face and the open incomprehension in Percival's but before any of the knights could say anything another thunder rumbled above them, leaving them momentarily speechless when it was followed by a heavy rain.

Odin dismounted his horse and held up a hand, as if to tell his men to hold back, never minding the rain that poured down on him.

_"This day is the day we conquer Camelot!"_ he roared and it was followed by an enthusiastic cheer from his forces.

For a moment, as they looked on, Gwen knew they were all thinking the same thing. When Arthur came back with Merlin he would find ashes and bodies instead of his kingdom, even though they had been sure the wall surrounding them would last longer….

Her heart stopped.

_Merlin._

She turned towards the ancient physician with tears in her eyes. "Gaius, if the wall is_ gone_ would that mean…."

"I don't know what to think." was Gaius' shocked whisper. The hand that held his cane trembled. "The wall did not _crash down_ Gwen….it simply disappeared….almost if-"

But she got her answer before Gaius finished talking. When she raised her gaze to try and evaluate the size of Odin's army as she valiantly stopped herself from squeezing her eyes shut at the painful truth that Camelot would not survive the day- she saw something else. Something that towered over all of them, standing still on the top of a hill that surrounded Camelot, a silhouette that she almost could not recognize if it hadn't been for the striking familiarity it bore to the one she had seen at Camlann so many years ago.

And at once she understood that the wall had not tumbled down under the pressure of the spells but it had been_ taken_ down. And the one who'd willingly let it down was the same dark shadow that watched them silently and faithfully from atop of a pawing horse.

* * *

(1) 1x10. The Moment of Truth.

(2) This is a personal headcanon of mine. It's okay if you don't share it. :P

_Extremely_ Bamf! Merlin on his way. That's all I have to say.

And by the way, does anyone else want a Supernatural/Merlin crossover in which Sam and Dean help Merlin get Arthur back ( y'know now that the angels have fallen and all that stuff?) Because I DO! Bless their soul, whoever writes this.


	6. Strokes of Fate

So, here I am, about to know who'll be my college roommate ( I can't deal with how ridiculously excited I am right now!) and trying to figure out what I'm going to major in….

You know, I think each of my plot bunnies start with a specific scene on my head. This whole chapter was that scene so you can all imagine how amazing it felt to finally put it down on paper (on word, whatever.)

Beware for Sir Leon being….you know, awesome as usual. ;)And Merlin being BAMF. Yup.

Earlier today I left a review for an adorable two shot (Defense by FlyingMachine1 if one of you wants to check it out. It's positively one of the cutest stories out there.) and I typed _you're_ instead of_ your_. I'm still beating myself over it. Go figure.

(Fun Fact- I had Bonnie Tyler's 'I Need a Hero.' on repeat as I typed this. :P )

* * *

Merlin's blows are strokes of fate,  
Chiming with the forest tone,  
When boughs buffet boughs in the wood;  
Chiming with the gasp and moan  
Of the ice-imprisoned flood;  
With the pulse of manly hearts.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

**Chapter V**

**Strokes of Fate.**

* * *

The stranger made no sound, none at all; but the wind gradually died down, those brandishing their swords stopped and looked- as if pulled by an invisible force or perhaps by the coldness that froze their hearts- towards him. Even those who were trying to take refuge behind the castle walls stopped on their tracks and raised their heads.

Mere moments before, Odin and his men were screaming out their victory with bouts of grotesque laughter. Now, only the droplets of rain made a faint sound as they fell upon men, war horses, and the pavement.

_He_ said nothing.

_His_ silence spoke more than any king's speech. As he surveyed them from his horse lightning erupted behind him and, though none could see his face, all of them backed away in fear nonetheless. It was futile, they soon realized, when one small, almost unnoticeable flicker of the man's wrist stopped them from retreating any further. Pure fright took its rightful place in all of their faces and those that belonged to Camelot looked on, barely daring to believe this silent, hooded man a savior.

Watching it all happen from the stained windows of Camelot's castle, the Queen of Camelot, Gaius the physician and what was left of King Arthur's fabled Round Table looked on as hope rose inside of them even though no one dared say anything out loud for the terrible fear of being mistaken.

It was only when Odin stepped forwards in a foolish act of defiance that they understood it was not a dream or a shadow but a solid man standing there, _protecting_ them.

"It is _him_." Gwen said gleefully and everyone around her silently agreed. "He came _home."_

She began rushing down the stairs without a moment to spare, suddenly terrified in her joy, because even if Camelot was saved by the warlock of legend, Merlin could turn around when his deed was done and_ leave_ them again.

She'd almost forgotten that they were a breath away from war- something about Merlin's presence made her feel _safe_ in ways she couldn't understand- but Leon's hand in her shoulder just when she was about to run out the great oak double-doors reminded her.

"Wait! Gwen, wait! _Look_!"

The rain made it almost impossible to see, it was clouding the windows as the droplets slid down the glass but when Leon pointed she could see the faint outline of archers in between the enemy lines.

"Maybe if I _talk_ to them-"she began.

"No one can protect you from a poisoned arrow Gwen."

"Or from those sorcerers he's enlisted." Percival said, reaching them with his sword already drawn.

She couldn't help but press on, "_Merlin_ wouldn't let anything happen."

She knew that it was true in her heart but Leon, even though his subtle wrinkles smoothed over, only said gently, "Arthur would never forgive me if I'd let you be in danger. He asked me to take care of you until he returned."

Percival's face would've made them laugh if it wasn't for the clear sound of swords being drawn and the crying of children. "What do you _mean _until he r_eturned, _Leon?"

"Ah, Percival." said Gaius, who'd reached them. "The most extraordinary thing occurred while you were out patrolling…"

Both the Queen and the knight turned around to face him with sudden smiles and twinkling eyes but a thunder roared in the sky once again and through the window they could see the blurry movement of Odin's men.

"I promise you that I'll be alright." Gwen said soothingly, about to push the doors open. "You don't have to worry Leon-"

"Then I'll go, My Lady." Arthur's oldest knight interrupted with a step forwards.

Gwen blinked a few times in astonishment before placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Leon-"she said, shaking her head.

"I'll trust on Merlin's good instinct." said the knight, turning towards a stunned Percival and shaking his hand. He smiled at his Queen and, before she could do anything, stepped forwards into the rain.

It was nearly cold as winter outside of the castle and the fear that could be seen in the eyes of the children that were huddled in the arms of their mothers and those men that had never seen a weapon in their life and only knew of their little house and their little farm made the atmosphere even colder, as only unbridled panic can. Even the knights were tensing with anticipation and dread, some of them with injuries that were still not entirely healed, as they saw into the eyes of the men that would probably slaughter them in a matter of minutes.

Odin was the only one who's face remained as stoic as always, too proud and overconfidence to see his foolishness. It was him who turned his back on the stranger and told his men to do the same, choosing instead to focus his attention on the slowly opening doors of Camelot's castle and the tall man that walked out.

"One of _Arthur's_ knights, I presume." The king said, meeting Sir Leon's stare. "Foolish enough to think he can take an army on his own."

He smiled and then chuckled but the laughter that was expected from the warriors behind him never came.

"Or brave enough to die with honor." Leon replied, slowly walking down the stone steps to meet him. "Yes. I _am_ one of Arthur's knights. And it brings me great joy to call myself one."

Then those wearing red-cloaks and the Pendragon emblem on their chests cheered and the defenders of Camelot stirred nervously as Odin's smile fell and a scowl settled on its place.

"I wish to speak with Queen Guinevere." the king said politely. "I've heard many great things about her."

Behind him, one archer flexed his fingers. Leon did not move as he spoke, "I'm afraid that will not be possible."

He said nothing else but the way he stared down at the shorter King and his fingers curling over the hilt of his sword said more than words ever could.

Odin, whose smile was suddenly nonexistent, made no effort to hide the tension that overtook his features, making it as clear as the raindrops that fell steadily upon them-he was not backing away.

"That's… _unfortunate_."

The faintest smile ghosted over Leon's lips, "Indeed it is."

When the old king pointed his sword, almost lazily, at his chest, the knight did not move but rather fixed Odin's wrinkled and worn out face with the calmest gaze he could manage.

"You see, I am a reasonable man, knight." continued Odin, not caring- or perhaps not noticing- the nervous way his men stirred around him. "I had a treaty with Arthur once."

"I _know_."

A mockery of a smile that was more of a pained grimace pulled Odin's lips upwards as he raised his blade and touched Sir Leon's bearded chin with the cold tip.

"He had me a sword point." he said, "Convinced me that I did not want to leave my kingdom at war if I was to die at his hand."

Sir Leon's eyes flashed subtly with something akin to pity.

"I know you were grieving your son."

The king could not conceal the slight shudder that wracked his bulky frame as he heard Sir Leon's words, heavy with a confidence that no man should possess when he is at the brink of dying. He did not know that the knight before him had seen his reason to fight alive and well a little over a day ago.

"Yet Arthur is _dead_." Sir Leon continued and though Odin saw an odd glint in the knight's pale eyes he thought nothing of it. "_Why_ are you doing this?"

He paused before he replied, taking a few moments to look appalled. "Have you not _seen _it? The druidic people- an entire culture of their own. – seek to make Camelot their new home. Your Queen had the audacity to reclaim Gedref as her own and it is rumored that Queen Annis wants to give over Caerleon to Camelot as well. This _kingdom_, my dear knight, is the key to what kings throughout the ages have sought. _Immeasurable wealth."_

"The United Kingdoms." muttered Sir Leon, so softly that Odin did not hear him.

The old king lowered his sword slightly and sighed heavily; letting his eyes wonder towards the wooden doors one more time before the muscular knight hid them from his view. "The Queen will not see me, I presume? Not even to exchange a few words?"

The knight's thunderous face was enough of an answer.

"If you want someone to talk to." Arthur's oldest knight argued, "You can talk to me."

With a wave of his hand the king dismissed the idea, "No. _Not you_. I would've hoped to end this without any unnecessary bloodshed." the tip of his sword touched Sir Leon's cold chain mail, right over where his heart beating. The knight did not even flinch. "You give me no choice but to take you out of the way, Sir knight."

"Then I will die knowing that I've done my duty."

"Pity." growled Odin, spitting out his words as if he intended for them to be venomous, "Who will answer for Arthur Pendragon then?"

At the raw, wild vindictive mockery on his words the earth seemed to shiver around them and the air became heavy with something as ancient as magic itself. It filtered through the rain and the stench of fear to finish breaking what little confidence there was left on Odin's men and take away every pair of eyes from the king and the knight so that they could see what was making its way towards them…

The crowd parted when the cloaked, hooded man suddenly found it necessary to make his way through, walking as if nothing could ever make him raise his gaze from the ground. The sound of a wooden staff as it fell over the cobblestones was the only thing heard on the eerie silence that befell the courtyard of Camelot's palace.

_"I will_."

Like a warning bell, his voice made those around him shift restlessly in an effort to shy away and Odin- apparently without his own knowledge- step back the slightest bit. Yet the king pressed on, however, choosing to ignore it all and asking harshly, "You will _what?"_

The stranger's lips – the only part of him that was visible from below his hood- trembled before he replied with ease. "_I will answer for Arthur Pendragon_."

Odin only could stare at him in disbelief for a few moments, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay behind that long cloak but failing miserably. The mere thought of what this man could be made his lips twist in a humorless smile. "Unless you are a lost Pendragon,_ another_ bastard child-"

"I am fit to answer for _Arthur _even more that the Queen you tried to kill just now or whoever has a drop of the Pendragon's blood." The stranger all but seethed. "Ask any of the sorcerers you've brought here today."

He gestured with his arms and two pale hands extended towards those that were closer, the simple movement was enough to make most of them shiver and fall to their knees before Odin's outraged eyes. He was too preoccupied eyeing the newcomer with a blossoming fear to see Sir Leon's wide eyes behind him.

_"Who are you?"_

"Let one of them tell you." The pale man suggested, snatching one of the closest sorcerers by the collar and hurling him forwards as he bemoaned and pleaded for mercy.

The sorcerer landed on his hands and knees, seconds away from becoming a sobbing child, and threw himself at the man's booted feet as he cried out, "_Emrys,_ please let us be!"

Odin felt a sudden chill travel down his spine, as if a thunderbolt had just struck the base of his neck. Suddenly, as the man before him looked up again, the air became impossible to breathe.

"Emrys." the old king whispered, trying to back away but knowing it would be futile. "_You are the druid's Emrys_."

The smile that filled up those lips stopped Odin's old heart with its icy coldness and he tried once more to make his way through but instead found that Sir Leon had drawn his sword behind him….

"Let me answer for _my King_, then, My Lord." Emrys said, taking deliberately slow step towards him, as if he was a predator and the old king was its prey. "He wanted to make a world where peace and unity reigned. He wanted to create a kingdom that was just and fair."

One pale hand descended upon Odin's arm, stopping him from going any further. "As long as I am here_ no one _will touch what _was_ his home."

It was fantastic, thought Odin, how incredibly thin, pale and frail that hand seemed and yet….how claw-like it closed around his bicep. An iron grip. An _inhuman_ grip.

"You are not a Pendragon." was all he could think of saying, trying to make sense of the situation. _"Why….?"_

Deep devastation darkened the blue eyes he could see flashing below the hood, grief of the likes he'd never seen before.

"_I am_ what's left of him on this world." Emrys said softly, as if merely speaking of it brought him unbearable sorrow. "He was my _destiny."_

He averted his eyes the next second, squeezing them shut and tightening his arm around Odin with impossible strength. The king couldn't tell if it was the rain what made its way down the sorcerer's chin or…

"I should _smite_ you and your men where you stand." Emrys went on after a moment of silence and somehow the softness of his voice was worse than any battle cry Odin had heard. "Believe me, I _would_."

"Why don't you then?"

For a moment, while he held his breath, the king could see Emrys' resolution slipping away before his mouth set in a grim line.

"I can't. _He _wouldn't want me to." Emrys breathed out at last. "Had you picked any other day, any other _week, _for your attempt, I would've shown you clemency. But_ now_-"

His hand twisted on the fabric of the cloak that covered him, as if it took him all of his goodwill to stop himself from striking down the horrified king he held on his grasp.

With one last painful squeeze of Odin's limb he finally let go, watching as the king staggered backwards and towards his men.

"_Go_, all of you." he commanded, so faintly that no one would've heard if it wasn't for the sepulchral silence.

Odin did not move and, after throwing a glance at their commander, neither did his men.

"_Get out of my sight!"_

His voice was similar to a dragon's hoarse and almighty roar, a sound that no human throat should be able to make. Even though the man did not breathe fire it was as if he'd had.

Some of them ran, some of them disintegrated with a useful spell, most of them simply cried out in terror as they struggled blindly past each other to get to safety….

Odin was one of them, fear etched on his face, as he fought with tooth and nail to reach his war horse and gallop away, only stopping for a moment to look back at the chaos and the figure standing, tall and almighty with his back towards him, in the midst of it all.

It was then, when he was about to flee, that he saw her run out of the castle screaming someone's name. Noticing that one of his archers was by his side, fighting to regain control of his own frightened horse, the king made sure the sorcerer was looking down again before he whispered, "There's your target."

He pressed his pocket dagger to the man's ribs when he refused and tried to back away; leaving the archer no choice but to raise his bow, point shakily towards the center of the courtyard and let his fingers slip from the feathered tip-

The arrow left the archer's hands and fleeted through the air.

And on the exact same moment the shield that Odin thought they'd brought down upsurged around him not unlike a roaring wave of sparkling sea water rising around Camelot's castle, the ones he'd recruited and that had not made it out screamed as they pounded at the walls….

Emrys turned towards him and as those burning eyes found him Odin realized he had never known true fear until then. Suddenly, the security of his horse was gone and the air whipped him towards Emrys, forcing him to his knees.

"_I warned you."_ was all Emrys said.

He placed two of his long, pale fingers on Odin's creasing forehead and breathed out, watching emotionlessly as the lifeless body of the king hit the ground not a heartbeat later.

If there was chaos before- muted and subdued by the shock of seeing a man fly through the air and the Emrys kill without a word. - then there were no words for what happened next. The sorcerers that were not crawling away or kneeling as they pleaded for mercy were vanishing in clouds of smoke and the warriors and dark-clothed army, still stunned, found themselves fighting an enthusiastic mob of knights wearing the Pendragon crest.

Watching all of this unfold, no one noticed the way The Emrys slipped away silently, never raising his gaze from the ground. That's why, when Leon finally snapped his head upwards to look for a sign of the man he knew by the name of Merlin, all he could catch of glimpse of was a dark stallion already galloping away.

_"Merlin!"_

But before he could even think of running he saw a white mare he knew all too well whinnying as it hurried out with an unmistakable figure on its back.

"_GWEN!"_

Even though she heard Leon shouting her name Gwen did not even turn her head to acknowledge it, focusing instead on reaching Merlin somehow because….heaven knew she could not let him go. No after what had happened. Not after _Arthur _had made his way back.

Her heart jolted on her chest as she remembered what she'd feared for the most part of a day, something that was not true, after all, because how could a injured man ever fight like that….?

_Merlin was alright._

So she chased him, leaving behind the lower town and the hordes of screaming men, racing towards the forest faster than she ever had dared to go on her life, knowing that if Merlin decided that he had enough and disappeared she would probably never find him again.

Never minding the tears that were mingling with the rain she pressed on, screaming out against all hope and sanity_, "Merlin!"_

The man before her grabbed the reigns in a vice-like grip and the horse almost skidded to a halt, leaving her breathless for a moment.

"Merlin?" she ventured, stopping her winded mare as well. "It's me. It's Gwen."

He did not turn towards her nor did he acknowledge that he'd even heard her. But his knuckles were white were they held onto the reigns and the horse did not move.

Barely daring to hope and wiping her tears with his fingers the Queen of Camelot let out a breathless chuckle. "I know," she said, hesitantly reaching out with one hand even though Merlin was out of her reach, not just his body but his heart as well. "That you are Emrys."

She waited for a moment with baited breath but the face she hoped to see did not turn towards her.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done." Guinevere continued, not caring if her bottom lip quivered and her tears began falling again. "For us. For Camelot. For Arthur. _Arthur….he's_…"

She almost choked with emotion as she prepared to say it, letting out another soft giggle at the happiness that the mere thought of her husband- _alive and breathing_- brought.

The cloaked backside that was in front of her tensed up as if he'd suddenly been sculpted in stone and she could barely believe her ears when a voice she'd recognize anywhere spoke up with such sadness that it broke her heart.

"Dead." He finished for her, "He's _dead_, Gwen. I _saw_ it."

Guinevere could say nothing for a few moments, too stunned at how absolutely certain Merlin sounded, as if he knew something she didn't. As if he'd confirmed it with his own eyes.

"No…" she gasped after a while, shaking her wet curls away from her eyes to try and see him better. "No, Merlin, no. You don't _understand_…."

He shook his head and even though she could not look pass the hood Gwen knew he had scrunched his eyes shut as he always did whenever something was too painful to be spoken of. "Not _now_." He said in the softest of tones, sounding far too much as a child about to cry. "Please, Gwen. Just….just let me be."

He held back a sob, then. And it terrified Gwen more than anything else.

"Come _home_ with me." she pleaded softly, holding out her hand expectantly and wishing he would take it as he used to whenever they skipped stones together after finishing up their chores...

He turned and through the tears and the raindrops that blurred her eyesight Gwen could see a pair of blue eyes boring into hers from below the dark hood.

They said nothing as they looked into each other's eyes, never once minding the rain around them. Gwen managed to give him a watery smile, trying to think of a way in which she could tell him that Arthur was waiting for him….

But those few seconds flew away before she could do anything and Merlin shook his head, almost imperceptibly, spurring his horse forwards…

_"Merlin!"_

He did not look back at her and soon enough the rain made it seem as if he had never been there at all.

* * *

So, basically this whole thing from Merlin's POV ( especially upcoming chapters.) can be resumed with a quote from Doctor Who. (I don't watch Doctor Who by the way but I basically love quotes of all shapes and sizes. :)

**_"You gave me hope and then you took it away_**_. That's enough to make anyone dangerous. God knows what it'll do to me."_

Songs ( song verses) that deserve honorable mentions because without them this would've not been possible. Not in a million years.

…why don't you kill me ?  
All that I can see are shadows of my destiny."

_-David Brandes, 'Cool Vibes.'_

And,

"…Never thought I'd feel so ashamed.  
Me and the dragon can chase all the pain away.  
So before I end my day, remember…  
My sweet prince, you are the one."

_- My Sweet Prince, Placebo._

For all of the Merlin-Gwen bbf-ry fans out there like myself. The whole forest scene was inspired by a song (when is it not?) and its right here: _My Oldest Friend- Andrew Belle._

"…and I hope you finally realize  
that I'm only looking out for you  
_when I'm not afraid to see this through_

who do you think you are?  
who do I think_ I am?_  
barely listening to my oldest  
my oldest friend."

Yeah, so it's about two in the morning right now and I really can't go back and check when my eyelids are drooping so forgive me for any typos or errors. :)

I'm going on vacation the day after tomorrow and I promised myself that I would have something up before I boarded the plane because all of you beautiful people already waited two months and you don't deserve another two. God knows I'll have absolutely no time for weeks. :)

Have a great week, everyone! As always, hugs and love!


End file.
